POTO: WTDWYTS, Revolutions!
by SarahBelle
Summary: It's BACK! After some editing and improvement, I hope. Just when you thought it was safe to go back to reading parodies! Now, Erik takes advantage of Christine...but it's ravishment, so she doesn't mind.
1. Chapter 1

**An explanation is in order, methinks. (Uh oh, that word is _never _a good sign!)**

**You may have been wondering where this story has been for the last while and a half. Well, I can now reveal it to you – I took it down. Yes, I know it was popular, and it got me a _lot _of reviews, but to tell the truth I simply wasn't happy with some of it. Mum pointed out to me while I was writing it that there was quite a lot of slang creeping into it, and looking back I found I had to agree with her. Among other crimes too heinous to mention, I seemed to have adopted the fad of having either myself or somebody else saying 'okay' in every other sentence, which became at first simply irritating, then annoying, and finally agonising, until it got to the point where I wanted to bash my brain out with the keyboard. (Heaven knows what it was like for you poor readers. My heart goes out to you.) Also, there was the matter of 'what _ever_', the dreaded 'sucks', and the even more dreaded 'like'. GAAAH!**

**So, in short, I decided to take it off, give it a bit of a revamp (root out the slang, rewrite the parts that I didn't feel worked as well as they could the first time around, that sort of thing) and then repost it. For all those fans of the first _What 'they' didn't want you to see, _don't fret; there won't be major deletations, only the bits that I really felt weren't that funny, or which I felt needing altering a tad. For all the new readers (hope springs eternal) don't worry that you'll have missed anything by not reading the first edition. All the inside jokes I will endeavour to explain – not that there was time for many of those to be formed.**

**So, everybody, enjoy the reworking. I look forward to seeing what it will bring. (Probably lots of reviews screaming 'Why did you take the original off in the first place! I was _enjoying _it!' Like I said, hope springs eternal.)**

**So it begins.(1)**

**

* * *

(1) Oh, _dammit!_ Inside joke, and we haven't even begun. Let us just say, that catchphrase haunted me throughout the writing of this. Haunted me, I tell you!**


	2. Prologue: How OLD are this lot?

**Disclaimer: Don't own POTO. _Or_ a bombast chandelier.**

**

* * *

Prologue: Stands out because it's the only part of the film that _doesn't_ have a song in it. Thank goodness.**

**A candle lights up, and slowly reveals the words 'The Phantom of the Opera', before blowing out, sending up a thin wisp of smoke – _spooky_ – as well as chills up the audiences' spines, hopefully in a good way. Those in the audience who have seen the film before, and who presumably have come back because they liked it (understatement of the century) squee, albeit to themselves, and quietly.**

**So we zoom up on this big engraving of the Opera Garniere-**

People who have actually seen the _real_ Opera Garniere in Paris: That looks _nothing _like the real Opera house.

**Oh,_boo hoo_.So again, as we zoom up, the engraving becomes a real, albeit rather gloomy, black and white shot of the building, as all zoomed upon engravings in films somehow seem to do. **

**There's probably a great big conspiracy behind it all. **

**Then we see an old man getting out of a car, and into a wheel-chair. We assume the man is Raoul. Those of us who for some inexplicable reason _haven't_ seen Patrick Wilson as the young version of the character can only hope that he has seen better days, because otherwise they're going to practically vomit when they watch him kissing Christine. Those of us who have seen him as the young version think he has _really _let himself go.**

**Anyway, the old Raoul is wheeled into the opera house – which conveniently has a disabled access ramp, which is pretty good for 1919 – along with the nurse with the ridiculous hat, which surely must serve some purpose, although we may prefer not to know – right into the middle of an auction they're having in the auditorium; which, having seen the real thing, is appreciated as quite a feat, since it is a _bit_ of a squeeze in there, even without the chairs. At this point in the proceedings, we also see an old lady, whom we take to be either Madame Giry or Meg – the epicentre of hundreds of basically pointless debates on the net. We'll just assume she's the senior Giry, shall we?**

Auctioneer: Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen; a music box with a little monkey on top, complete with cymbals; discovered in the cellars under the building, and for sale, despite the fact it may have any amount of cooties or germs or stuff on it. _(He realises by the looks on the audience's faces that if he goes on like this, he's not going to be making a sale anytime soon.)_ But it works! And it plays a cute little tune!

**The tune is accordingly played. I personally don't know why _anyone_ would want something that played _that_** **in their living room; but Raoul looks pretty keen to have it. Unfortunately for him, so does Madame Giry.**

Auctioneer: May I start the bidding at fifteen francs?

**The bidding goes on accordingly, until Raoul just glares at Giry.**

Raoul: Grrr – my death stare isn't working today.

Giry: Oh, just have the box then.

Raoul: Gee, thanks. Why do you want it anyway?

Giry: I could tell you – but then I'd have to kill you.

Raoul: O…kay. You're weird; keep away from me.

Giry: What _ever._

Auctioneer: Sold for thirty francs, to the Vicomte de Chagny!

Raoul: I'm, like, seventy, and I'm _still _a Vicomte? What is up with that?

Joel Schumacher: (randomly inserting himself into the scene from nowhere – he can do that, because he's a director, okay?) Andrew was pretty keen to keep that in. No idea why. (Disappears again.)

Raoul: …That was just confusing. Oh, well. _(The music box is handed to him.) _Hey, little buddy. A collector's piece indeed…every detail, exactly as she said – like I _really_ listened when my wife was babbling on about some music box her insane sexy stalker made – will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?

Giry: And he thinks I'm weird!

Auctioneer (who is paying no attention to the old man in the wheel chair talking to the little monkey): Lot 666, then – and please pay no attention whatsoever to the quite obvious reference to Evil, noted in the lot number – a broken chandelier.

**This does not get quite the response he anticipated. Raoul is still talking to the monkey, Giry is bending down to touch her toes for some reason unbeknownst to us, the nurse is flirting with the porter, and the rest of the crowd are standing around, doing very little, as crowds in this type of setting generally tend to do, not looking all that impressed.**

Auctioneer(slightly desperately): It's got a really interesting back story!

Random guy in the crowd: Surprise us.

Auctioneer: Ever heard of the strange affair of The Phantom of the Opera?

Another random guy in the crowd: Duh, dude, that's kind of like the title of this whole flick. Well, not the 'strange affair' bit, but the rest of it.

Auctioneer: Well, _this _is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster!

Another random guy (the same one as last time around): Which famous disaster?

Auctioneer: What? You _said _you'd heard of the strange affair-

A.r.g: Yeah, yeah, I heard of that bit; but what about this disaster?

Auctioneer: Well, how can you not know about the disaster? That's how most of the people in Paris got to know about the Phantom!

Joel Schumacher: (randomly inserting himself again) I think I can explain. Since this is, theoretically, set in the last part of the story, the events which are about to occur have not yet taken place. The disaster has not yet occurred; so therefore you cannot know about it.

Raoul: But most of the story is _my _flashbacks. How can I have flashbacks if they haven't actually happened?

Schumacher: (shrugs) Don't blame me. I never said it was a very _good _explanation.

Giry: So what you're saying is that since the past events have not yet taken place, since they have not yet come into the movie, the future does not yet exist?

Schumacher: Pretty much.

Raoul: (panicked)You mean we're not really here? OMG! Are we all the daydream of some brain floating in a jar in a laboratory somewhere, then?

Giry: Well, if that were the case, it would certainly explain a lot about _you._

**Can we get a move on? I kind of have some homework I'm skipping right about now; so if you don't mind I'd like to wrap up this chapter without any more philosophical debate.**

All: 'kay.

**_Thank_ you. You were saying, Mr. Auctioneer?**

Auctioneer: I _do_ have a name, you know.

**Just do the chandelier thing already.**

Auctioneer: Fine, fine…our workshops have repaired it, and wired parts of it for the new electric light. So if they spent all that money on the electricity, why didn't they re-jig the rest of the place while they were at it?

**So that the film makers could stage a really big impressive digital restoration of their own, I should imagine. Speaking of which, you were about to…?**

Auctioneer: Oh, _okay_. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination? Gentlemen?

**With a big blast of organ music, the stagehands, or assistants, or whatever they are, start lifting the big chandelier up towards the ceiling on ropes. As they do, colour starts flooding through the auditorium, as the music continues to play, very loudly. A feast for both eyes and ears. Although our ears may soon shut down to save themselves from getting totally ruptured.**

Giry: And so it begins.

Raoul: Ooo, pretty colours!


	3. Chapter Two: Hijinks in Hannibal

**Disclaimer: I don't own POTO; and I _certainly _do not own lewd golden statues of naked women! **

**

* * *

Chapter Two: Hannibal and Think of Me when Carlotta sings it, before she nearly gets squashed. Any connection?**

**1870, the Paris Opera house – even though this was supposed to take place in the 18_80s_, according to the book, but let's ignore that for now, shall we?**

**The entire auditorium and stage has been magically – well, digitally - restored to its former glory. Unfortunately, that includes (among more naked golden women than is good, right or remotely decent for _any _room, musical or not) Carlotta, complete with a big gilt skirt, a strange red wig and holding Hannibal(both the general and the Doctor)'s answer to: What do you get the spoilt diva who has _everything? _A severed human head in a bag, with scary disgusting bloodstained spinal cords still attached, that's what. Besides being a collector's item and a totally _repulsive_ piece of memorabilia, it says a number of cute catchphrases, including several forms of _'Argh!'_, and the ever endearing death rattle. No Opera Diva should be without one.**

Carlotta: THHHEEEEESSSSSSEEEEEEEE TROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPHEEEEEEEEEEE

FROM OUR SAAAAAAAAAVIOURS…

…**and more of the same; but I can't bothered to type it all out. Let's just say it sounds a bit like Sarah Brightman.**

Sarah Brightman fans: Grrr. (Throw a random machete they just _happen _to have, but which misses by about a mile, since I am the narrator of this phic and I don't particularly want to get the top of my head sliced off, so I say it misses me. Plus the fact that technically I'm disembodied in this, so I can't get the top of my head sliced off in any case – but it's the fact that they threw it to _hit _that's important.)

People in audience who haven't seen the stage show and so don't have some inkling of what _that_ was about: Okay, I have absolutely _no _idea what she just said.

**That is, I believe, the usual opinion with most opera goers in this day and age.**

Same people: All right: I know she was speaking English, and yet I _still _have absolutely _no _idea what she just said.

**Deal with it. So, after Carlotta does her little opening bit, with much waving about of her new toy – _shudders _– all the dancing girls and dancing boys – that just sounded _so _wrong, lets change it to male dancers – and some people wearing really strange headdresses, and some other people wearing loads of big armour, go onto the stage, and start dancing about. The girls are wearing _very _skimpy clothing for something set in the 1870s. But I can see why the Phantom would be spying on the rehearsals all the time, if they wore stuff like this everyday. And when they bring out the chains, I can definitely understand why the Phantom is watching this particular rehearsal – as well as many of the males in the audience.**

Joel Schumacher: That is _so _not true! This is _totally_ a family film!

Phantom(from up in the flies): And I'm _not _a pervert!

**Joel, this is a PG-13, so don't talk to _me _about family films. And you're not in this scene yet, Erik, so go away. So where were we, when I got sidetracked on the dubious rating? Oh, yeah; Piangi comes forward to sing – though how he can sing properly through that strange mouth-guard is anyone's guess.**

Piangi: Sada return to finda the land we _lova_, threatened once more by Roma's far reaching-

Strange little Piangi who is in the film for no reason that can be attained at short notice: (Mimes.)

Reyer: For God's sake, man, if the gilt Spanish chick can say the damn word, you should certainly be able to manage it! Now, try it again!

Piangi: Si, si…threatened once more by Roma's-

Reyer: No, no, it's Rome! Rome!

Piangi: Roma?

Reyer: For the last time, you obese Italian dolt, it's Rome! Rome! Rome! With an 'e'! Rome, I tell you! ROME!

**Pause.**

Piangi: …Roma?

Reyer:(Lies down and cries.)

Lefevre: Umm…maybe I should intervene at this point?

**Maybe you should.**

Lefevre: All _righty_. (to Andre and Firmin, who have come in with him) Rehearsals, as you can see, are under way for a new production of 'Hannibal'. Or at least they would be if the conductor wasn't currently lying in the orchestra pit in a foetal position and sucking his thumb.

Reyer(incensed by this remark and leaping up): Monsieur Lefevre! I am _rehearsing!_

Carlotta: You no rehearsing, we rehearsing! All you doing is standing in orchestra pit waving your stick!

Reyer: You are all meaningless! You are merely pieces on the stage! I am the master! I control all! I'M KING OF THE WORLD!

Phantom(from the flies): And people say I'm weird.

Giry: That's becoming a bit of a catchphrase in this film(apparently remembering the last scene, despite the fact that philosophically it hasn't happened yet. Don't ask.).

**What ever. Go _away_, Erik; I'm not warning you again.**

Phantom: But I am in the scene! I'm _lurking!_

**Oh yes, so you are. Well, you can stay then; but don't say anything. The point of lurking is to skulk in the shadows, _not _to make sarcastic comments about the proceedings.**

Phantom: What _ever_.

Giry: And _that's _becoming a catchphrase as well!

Lefevre: Seriously, though, the man in the mask has a point. Sometimes Reyer does really nutty things – he could give the Phantom a run for his money.

Meg: Hmm. 'He's there, the Conductor of the Opera!"…Nope, just doesn't sound as catchy.

Lefevre: But maybe if we gave him a swishy little cloak and a mask-

Meg: But he doesn't have a disfigurement to hide!

Phantom: It could be arranged.

Giry: Don't you think this building has enough strange men stalking around in masks and swishing cloaks doing crazy things?

Phantom: Exactly! I refuse to be compared with a loony conductor!

Lefevre: But Reyer does crazy things so _well_!

Reyer: I am right here, you know. I can hear every word you're saying.

Lefevre: So?

Reyer: Ooo, I hate you _so _much. I'm going to make a papier mache model of you out of sheet music and stick pins in it!

Lefevre: You do that. (To Andre and Firmin) Make sure you keep him away from sharp objects.

**He then notices – about time, in my opinion - that none of the characters on stage – or anywhere in the building for that matter – except for the Phantom, Reyer, who is frothing at the mouth, and the two Girys, are actually moving or blinking or even _breathing. _Carlotta's stuck in the middle of a horrible pout. Andre and Firmin are licking their lips at the sight of the ballet girls. Buquet is in the act of picking his nose. And so on. It's like they're all stuck in a little time warp. It would be quite impressive if it wasn't quite so creepy.**

Lefevre: Hey, how come everyone's suddenly started playing musical statues?

Phantom(bored): They haven't. They just stopped moving. And if you'd been paying attention, you'd have noticed that it didn't happen just now – it's been happening since, like, from when you starting talking about dressing that idiot up in one of my capes.

Lefevre: So why didn't you say anything?

Phantom: I don't know – I suppose the sight of Buquet forever stuck in the motion of picking his nose is quite diverting.

**Actually, neither of you were paying attention. If you _had _been, you would have noticed that everyone stopped just after Giry's line about the catchphrase.**

Giry: _I_ noticed. I always notice these things.

Lefevre: So why didn't _you _say anything?

Giry:(Shrugs) I don't talk. It's not my job.

Meg: What have you done to them, anyway?

**Well, it's a little bit complicated. Anyone here seen X-Men 2?**

Meg(excited, bouncing up and down and waving her hand in the air): Ooo, ooo, ooo, I saw that! Hugh Jackman is _so _hot! Though I liked him in Van Helsing as well – I _love _guys with long hair!

**Yeah, me too. But anyway, to avoid getting sidetracked; you remember that bit in the museum, when Pyro set that guy on fire, and Iceman put him out, and Professor Xavier froze everyone in the place except the mutants so they wouldn't get into trouble?**

Everyone(except Reyer, who is gnawing his baton): Yes.

Phantom: …Well, _I _haven't, but I'll take your word for it.

**Well, that's basically what I did here.**

Lefevre: How? You don't exactly have wheel-chair bound bald telepath powers…unless…Oh, dear _God_, you're one of those authors who can inflict anything they want upon us simply by wishing it, aren't you?

Phantom (_seriously_ panicked, trying to claw his way up the guy-ropes to safety): No! Not that! _Anything _but that! Leave me alone! Stay _away_ from my trousers; _away_, I tell you!

**Actually, I'm a sixteen year old school girl living in Surrey in the south of England, currently sitting in front of her computer, wondering why on earth she's writing this into her fan-fiction. I don't have any deadly powers. I'm not going to murder or maim or mutilate or assault anyone in any way in this fiction. And Erik, please believe me when I say this; I have absolutely _no _interest _whatsoever_ in your trousers, or whatever they may contain.**

Phantom: That's what they all say!

**Just because I'm legal doesn't necessarily mean I'm interested in that sort of thing. Not when I can buy a lottery ticket. Or even get married with my parents' consent.**

Phantom: Wow! England sounds _so_ much better than France! I should take Christine there!

Lefevre: All this is very interesting; but if you don't have any scary author powers, how did you freeze everyone?

**I didn't do it. _He _did.**

Joel Schumacher (inserting himself once again): Hi, everybody!

Everyone(except Reyer, who's now hitting himself over the head with the gnawed baton, rather in the fashion of anyone who has to greet that rather inept doctor with the beard in the Simpsons): Hi, Mr. Schumacher!

Lefevre: So do _you _have wheel-chair bound bald telepath powers, then?

Schumacher: Nope. This is a film, right?

Eveyone (even Reyer, who's stopped hitting himself over the head long enough to answer): Yeeeees?

Schumacher: Well, since this is a film, and I'm the director, I can just _pause_ it when I please. Such as now.

Phantom: Yeah, but why?

**Well, when I started writing this thing, Joel and I formed a truce. Since I don't profess to have any weird author powers, I can't really control you lot except with stern words. So I made Joel – with his influence as the actual director of this movie - promise that if things got _really _out of hand, he'd pause it so that I – or _we_, if such was the case – could reprimand whoever wasn't playing their part properly.**

Phantom: How did you do that?

**I bribed him.**

Phantom: I have a feeling I'm _really _going to regret asking this…but I'll do it anyway. With what?

**Doodlebags.**

Giry: I beg your pardon?

**Doodlebags. Randombattlecry has blueberry muffins, L'ange d'Erik has blueberry waffles – I have doodlebags. Rice crispies mixed with melted Mars bars and chocolate and butter, frozen and cut into slabs. The ultimate chocoholic's dream.**

Phantom: I find that hard to believe.

**You'd be surprised. Don't knock 'em 'till you've tried 'em, if you don't mind.**

Joel: Seriously; they are _so_ good. If she gave me enough, I'd let her be the director.

**_Never_ underestimate the power of Rice Crispies. **

Lefevre: I'll take your word for it. So what did we do wrong anyway?

Joel: Well, correct me if I'm wrong, sweetheart-

Lefevre: I'm _not _your sweetheart, bub.

Joel: Well, compadre, then; but I don't really think you're supposed to start having a conversation with the Phantom in the middle of the rehearsal about the selling potential of 'The Conductor of the Opera'. Or that you should start chatting at length about the 'strange dark man stalking around in a mask and a swishing cloak, doing crazy things'. Kind of takes the whole mystery out of the movie, if you know what I mean.

Phantom: But that's what I do, after all!

Joel: Erik, dear; _you _know that. _I _know that. Practically half the _audience_ knows that. But the _cast _aren't meant to know that – at least, not yet.

**So if Joel just un-pauses everything, you don't talk about this enjoyable little conversation of the last few minutes, and we can all pretend this never happened, okay?**

Meg: But what if we do talk?

**My advice to you is – _don't._**

Meg: Yeah; but what if we _do_ talk – by accident, of course?

**Well, Lefevre leaves for Australia after this scene, Madame Giry never says much if she can help it, I highly doubt Erik's going to start chatting to the cast, considering his extremely anti-social behaviour, Reyer's a few scales short of an aria -**

Reyer: Aria? Aria! That damned aria! THAT DAMNED ARIA!

…**umm, yeah; as you can see, no one's going to believe him anyway – and as for you, Meg, I think everyone will be far too busy staring at your neckline and below it to listen to anything you say.**

Meg: Gee, thanks!

**I didn't necessarily mean that as a _compliment_, but if it makes you happy – but on the whole I'm fairly satisfied with the way you were portrayed in this film, so we won't say anything more on that subject. Anyway, I believe we have a scene to continue?**

Everyone (except Reyer, who is _now_ pulling his moustache out, and Joel, who is munching some doodlebags): Oh, yeah.

**_Good. _Isn't it nice when we all agree? Now, everyone get back into the positions you were in when the scene first got frozen-**

Phantom: That would be just after the first catchphrase comment, right?

**Yes, it would. And somebody please make Reyer stop pulling his hair out.**

Phantom: I must say, it is rather refreshing to see someone other than me portrayed as a raving nut case for a change.

Joel: Yeah; but for the sake of reality we're going to keep Reyer on drugs for the rest of the movie. I messed up on some of the research in this, but I don't think many theatres would have employed a mad conductor, no matter how good he was.

Phantom: Spoilsport.

Joel: Don't worry; according to one review of this film, thanks to my fetishistic obsession with your gloves, you're like a slightly creepy Alvin Stardust impersonator.

Phantom(sarcastically): Oh, joy.

Joel(immune to sarcasm): Glad you're so happy.

**Joel, with a doodlebag wedged between his teeth, unfreezes the scene, and everyone starts moving around again – bar those people who were unfrozen before, who just keep on moving. So the film _finally _gets going again, after a pretty pointless debate about the selling potential of the 'Conductor of the Opera', an exhibition of the director's awesome 'pausing' powers, a discussion of the attractiveness of men with long hair, the revelation of just what kind of sad, lonely weirdo is writing this phic, the statement of the age of consent and just how many things you can do in England when you turn sixteen, the second revelation of doodlebags as useful bribing material, a segment of a rather less flattering review of the movie, as well as the conformation that one of the characters is insane and is on the pills – which is pretty darn good for what has been, in theory, only the first ten minutes of the film. **

Carlotta: Whya are ma lips stuck inna trout pout?

Andre and Firmin: And why are _our_ lips all soggy?

Buquet: And why do I feel like I've had my finger jammed up my nose for the last five minutes?

**Not saying a word. Not. One. Word.**

Lefevre: Where was I? Oh, yeah: Monsieur Reyer, Madam Giry, ladies and gentlemen; if I could have your attention? (Not that he needs it; they're all looking at him anyway.) As you know, there have been rumours of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true-

Some random stage hand: What? Even the one of you going off to California with a mail order bride?

Lefevre: Well, not that one-

Another random stage hand: And the one about you having a sex change operation and wanting to be called Leslie?

Lefevre: Shut up, you. Put it like this; I'm leaving. These are the two suckers – I mean, the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire. Richard Firmin and Gilles André. Everyone give them a nice clap, now.

**The cast accordingly clap.**

Another random guy: Gilles? What are you, a fish?

André: Remind me to fire that bloke.

Firmin: Okay. (Pause) Fire that bloke.

André: YOU'RE FIRED!

Lefevre: Technically, I am still the manager; so you can't fire him just yet.

André: That's okay. I can wait. You are mine. All mine… (Rubs his hands in a rather creepy manner.)

Firmin: Well, while we're here, we'd like to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny.

**Enter Raoul, who's had all the old bloke makeup scraped off and is looking young, spry, and – I hate to say it, but it must be said – just a little foppish in his shoulder-length wig.**

E/C worshippers in the audience: AAAAAAAHHHHH! FOP! KILL! KILL!

Raoul worshippers in the audience: No one's killing anyone else!

**Not in _my _phic they're not; at least not if they're not meant to. In any case, you can't kill him, since he's in the film and you're sitting in a cinema. **

E/C worshippers: DAMN.

Dancing Girls: Ooooo, he's, like, _so _dreamy!

Christine: OMG! Meg, I know him! I know him! He's a childhood friend! We used to hang out and everything! We were bestest friends! He was so sweet! He used to call me _such _a cute nickname - 'Little Lotte'!

Meg: Little Lotte? How the hell do you get 'Little Lotte' from Christine?

Christine: The same way you get 'Little Meg' from Marguerite or Magdalene, I suppose.

Meg: Not exactly. I mean, at least there are 'M's and 'g's in those names…

Raoul: Yeah, I'm really happy to be here, being the patron of this wonderful opera house – even though I don't really like opera, since I can't really understand what anyone's saying half the time.

Audience: The feeling's mutual.

Lefevre: In the meantime, this is the woman who's been driving us all completely nuts for the past five seasons.

Firmin: You mean the leading soprano, I'm sure.

Lefevre: (shrugs) Same thing.

Carlotta: Hiya, Mista Vicomte! (Practically drools all over him. Raoul doesn't notice, or if he does he pretends not to, in which case he's doing a very good job.)

Piangi: Hey! I'ma your boyfriend! I'ma youra amore!

Carlotta: Quiet, Piangi; I'ma talking to the Vicomte.

**Piangi glares at Raoul. Raoul, although he's not very quick on the uptake in many respects, is _very _intelligent in some ways, and quickly takes the hint.**

Raoul: And I believe that is my cue to leave. I'll be here this evening to celebrate your great triumph. Bye, y'all. (Walks up to Christine, who's grinning like a loony – and straight past her. He doesn't even look at her. Not once. Not even once.)

Meg: Well, it _has _been a long time since he last saw you…

Christine: Shut up.

Meg: He was probably so excited at the thought of this evening, he wasn't paying attention…

Christine: Shut up.

Meg: You were standing in the shadows, so he most likely couldn't see your face properly…

Christine: I cannot _believe_ you will not shut up.

Meg: Point taken. Shutting up _now._

Christine: Thank _you._

Giry: All right, enough standing around; back to work.

**Everyone starts dancing with the chains again. Unsurprisingly, this draws the new managers' attention. Well, it's not really surprising; a bunch of cute girls not dressed in much will draw the attention of any red-blooded hetero-sexual man.**

André: Whoa, check out the hot little blonde.

**This earns him a 'look' from Giry. I'm sure you know the sort I mean. If looks could maim, then André would have to be carried away in a basket.**

Giry: That's my _daughter_. Meg Giry. Very nice little girl, wouldn't you say? She is such a treasure. Of course, that means I am _very _protective of her. Very, _very _protective. _If _you know what I mean.

André: Meep.

**It's clear he does.**

Firmin: Well, anyways, (resolutely not looking at Meg) that brunette just behind her is pretty hot as well.

Phantom: Grrrr.

Firmin: What was that?

Giry: Nothing. Just a _ghost _of an echo.

**The big finale comes, with lots of wailing from Carlotta, and smiting on breasts from the ballet girls – god, the managers are _really_ drooling by now – and Piangi climbing onto that big fake elephant, which is quite an achievement in the armour he's wearing. It's like trying to climb on top of a wall while encased in a giant tin can, while also weighing about 16 stone. Well done to the man for trying, even if he didn't quite manage it. Have a special little round of applause.**

Applause: CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP times a few more hundred.

**Okay, that's enough. We don't want it going to your head.**

Piangi: My public, I lova you, I lova you all!

Reyer(who is now high on all the pills he's been given to stop him from killing somebody, namely Piangi): Wheee! We did it! It's over! Yay! Go everybody! I love you all so very much, even though I have no idea who any of you are! WHEEEEEEE!

**Okay, maybe we gave him too many pills. Anyway, Carlotta starts having a hissy fit, because the managers have been ogling the ballet girls rather than watching her. Seriously, though, who wouldn't rather watch some hot girls in not much at all rattle their chains and smite their breasts, rather than have to listen to some Spanish diva, who can't even sing properly, butcher the score? Not the males in the opera house; that's for certain; and not the males in the audience either. Though the fact that the choreography had been directed by a woman a.k.a Madame Giry, at least in the film, is rather scary. Best not dwell on that.**

Carlotta: I leave! You no appreciate my talents! Bye bye!

Firmin: No, please, we love you, Carlotta!

André: That's right! We would happily listen to you for hours – if there were dancing girls in the background…

Carlotta: WHATTA YOU SAYA?

André: I said you produce a beautiful _sound!_ And you do! Would you care to provide us with an example?

Carlotta: Oh, OKAY. But only causa you asked nicely.

Lefevre: If you would, Reyer?

Reyer: Sure! I love everybody! Here goes!

Carlotta: (Screeches. Well, actually it's not that bad, it's just…all right, let's just stick with the screeching.)

**Everybody winces and keeps on wincing, except Reyer, who isn't paying any attention because he's waving his arms trying to fly; and the Phantom because he's untying a backdrop to drop on her. Which he does.** **Not soon enough.**

Carlotta: Aaaeeeemmpppfff. (Disappears under the backdrop.)

Meg : HE'S THERE! THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!

Giry: We _know _he's there. He's been there since the scene started.

Meg: Mama, as Joel Schumacher said earlier, _you _know that. _I _know that. But _they_ don't know that.

Giry: Well, if they don't, they sure as hell do now.

Lefevre: OH MY GOD! That backdrop cost three thousand francs; and it's ruined! Ruined! Three thousand francs down the toilet!

Firmin: Should you be concerned? I mean, since this isn't really your opera house any more, it's not really your problem anymore either.

Lefevre: Oh, good point. Still, it's the principle of the thing that matters.

Piangi: Does _nobody _cara that a falling backdropa nearly crushed the life outta her?

Everybody: Umm…

**Apparently not.**

Lefevre: Oh well, I will appear to be concerned. Buquet, what's going on up there?

Buquet: Please Monsieur, don't look at me! As God's my judge, I wasn't at my post-

Lefevre: We don't care about that! Just tell us what happened!

Firmin: Aren't you the _least _bit concerned that your chief stagehand just left his post for no apparent reason?

**Again, it would appear not.**

André: Forget the francs, this whole _place_ is going down the toilet.

Buquet: As I was saying – please, monsieur, there's no one there! Or if there is – well then, it must be a ghost! (Laughs sinisterly.)

Phantom: _Oooo,_ you know too much. I may have to kill you later on.

Buquet: (Stops laughing and starts looking scared instead.)

Carlotta(who by this time has been freed from the backdrop): THAT'SA _EET! _I TAKE NO MORE OF THIS! I REALLY GO BYE BYE! SO _BYE BYE!_ (She storms off stage, calling for her poodles.)

Lefevre: She'll be back. She says all this stuff, but she never means it. She always comes back. Just you wait and see. She'll be back.

**They wait. She doesn't come back.**

Lefevre: All right; maybe this time she did mean it.

Piangi: Way to go, _dumbo._

Reyer(who if he hadn't been high on pills would probably have been _so_ dead of a heart attack at this point, but as it is, is making paper aeroplanes out of the sheet music): Whee, pretty planes! _Whooosh!_

Lefevre: Well, I'm done with hanging around this popsicle stand; so I'm outta here!

André: But you can't just-

Lefevre: Don't worry, I'm sure you'll both do fine!

Firmin: But how can we-

Lefevre: It's as easy as winking; just make sure you balance the bills and keep on the good side of the Phantom.

André: But-

Lefevre: Bye now.

Firmin: But-

Lefevre: Au revoir.

Both mangers: But-

Lefevre: Later. (He scoots away before the two can get a stranglehold on him.)

Giry(with classic _merde _timing): I have a message, sirs, from the opera ghost.

Firmin: Oh, for God's sake! Are you _all _on something?

Giry: No, that's just Reyer. The ballet girls just drink rum. Anyways, basically he says "Welcome to my Opera house, you saps; do as I say and you'll stay alive; keep box five empty for me and me alone or you'll regret it; and don't forget my salary, or else. Yrs sincerely, O.G."

André: What a nice, polite fellow.

**Whether he's being sarcastic or just plain dumb I leave up to you to decide.**

Firmin(tearing up the note – not the best action on his part, methinks): Well, we obviously won't be able to pay him, since we won't be able to have our gala tonight, since we seem to have lost something rather important.

Random stage hand: The music?

Another random stage hand: The conductor?

Yet another random (and apparently randy) stagehand: The dancing girls' bras?

Firmin: The STAR, you cretins. We'll have to refund the full house.

Giry: Oh no you won't, because Christine Daaé will magically step in and save the day, because she can suddenly sing _really_ well.

Firmin: She will?

Giry: Yes; otherwise there isn't much point to the story, is there?

André: I suppose not. Come on, then, dear – and I am not ogling you in anyway _whatsoever _as I say this…

Christine: Gee, thanks.

Reyer: From the beginning of the aria, then, mademoiselle. Whee, this is fun!

Christine: (Sings. Very well indeed, although that is apparently a matter of opinion in the audience.)

Random members of the audience: I like Sarah Brightman better.

Other random members of the audience: No way, Emmy rules. (Fight consequently breaks out.)

Giry: And so it begins. Again. Hey, another catchphrase!

* * *

**Review?**


	4. Think of me and all that jazz

**Disclaimer: I don't own. No problem. I am calm, cool, and collected.**

**

* * *

Chapter Three: Think of me, Angel of Music, Little Lotte and the Mirror – phew, four scenes in one post!**

**After all the Sarah Brightman fans and Emmy Rossum fans in the audience have stopped scrapping and the dust has settled down, we see that Christine is now magically dressed, after a flash of stage lights – graphics are truly a wonderful thing – in a white dress with a big puffy skirt, with pretty little star clips in her hair, and looking, as anyone who's been paying attention to what people say on the net knows, like an exact imitation of Empress Sisi. Which is very pretty and all, but seriously; what was the problem with the other Hannibal dress?**

Christine: Well, perhaps the fact that Carlotta apparently stormed off without taking it off?

**Point.**

Christine: Also possibly the fact that I wouldn't fit it anyway – I mean, Carlotta's at the very least a C, and I'm-

**Yes, _thank _you. I don't want to spend my time discussing the bra sizes of the various female members of the cast.**

Buquet: I DO!

Random males in the audience(both in the opera and in the cinema): So do we!

Christine: My public – where would I be without them?

**You _are _aware they appear to be more impressed by your figure than by any singing capability on your part?**

Christine: Oh, my figure is a major part of my total appeal to the world. The more I show, the better it is for my overall image. At least, that's what my Angel of Music says.

…**All I can say is, thank _goodness_ this film is PG-13. So, Christine goes on singing – glowing a bit more than is considered usual for someone on stage, but I guess that's just because she's wearing all that white-**

Christine: No, I actually _really _am glowing. All of me. Even my face. What's going on?

Joel Schumacher: Well, we mixed some glow-in-the-dark paint in with your stage make-up, and we painted your dress with the paint as well.

Christine: But why?

Joel: We wanted to imply your innocence and purity and angel like beauty. Hence the clouds and such in the background, and the glowing.

Christine: That's very nice; but couldn't you simply have done it digitally? I mean, you did a big restoration of the opera house, and changed my outfit in a flash of lights, so I should think making the dress glow would be a doddle.

Joel: Look after the pennies – or the dimes, or the Simoleans, or whatever currency I use…

Christine: It's not that I'm complaining, it's just that I look like I've spent a few nights in a local nuclear power plant.

Joel: But on the plus side, you look radiantly beautiful!

Christine: I guess that's true.

Joel: Unfortunately, with all the paint we put on your dress, it's dried in the lights, and its set, kinda stiff; so since you're wearing it, you sort of can't move.

Christine: So I'm expected to simply stand in the middle of the stage like some sort of lemon?

**Well, if lemons were thin and white and pretty and glowed, then _yes._**

Christine: (Sighs) This is going to be a _long _performance.

**But if you went on with the song like you're supposed to, then it would be over quicker, wouldn't it?**

Christine: I suppose – I'm obviously not going anywhere until I finish it.

**So, she goes on singing – again – really quite well, and looking very pretty indeed. Everyone looks very impressed. Well, it's not everyday you see a gorgeous girl dressed like an Empress of Austria who glows for some inexplicable reason, is it?**

Christine: _We never said our love was ever green, or as unchanging as the sea _– although, come to think of it, the sea is always changing. It never stays the same. Like that Chinese philosopher who wrote about that boy who watched a tree to catch a hare – and the Chinese I Ching – they both give the message that the only thing that does not change is that everything changes.

**You know, for once I'm not going to make any remarks. That _is_ a pretty valid point. I'll let you keep that.**

Christine: (Beams.)

**However, since this is Andrew Lloyd Webber's The Phantom of the Opera, not Adeline Yen Mah's Watching the Tree, we'll have no more quoting of ancient Chinese proverbs.(1) Stick to the script, all right?**

Christine: No more proverbs? (Looks as if she is about to cry.)

**_Okay_, I'll let you slip one in now and again. Never let it be said I'm a mean author. But for now, let's get on with Think of Me – and _please_ don't change the words of the songs anymore, otherwise Andrew's going to have my head on a plate.**

André: I should think he's got his own head on a plate to worry about, judging by what I saw in Carlotta's dressing room.

**That's a _painting_, you moron; it's not real. It was done to promote Carlotta's debut in Hannibal. Although it's not so much of a debut now, is it?**

Firmin: That still doesn't explain why it's Andrew's head in the picture.

Joel: Andrew has a _very _odd sense of humour. And posterity.

**The minds of composers work in strange ways.**

Phantom(who can apparently hear what's happening on the stage even though he's miles underground in his little boat): I am _not _insane!(2)

**I wasn't talking about you, Erik. There _are _other composers in the world besides you, hard though it may be for you to accept.**

Phantom: Grrr.

**Save your anger for later. You're going to need it. So, Christine goes on singing – again; how long can this song _last?_ – and up in Box Five, the penny finally drops for Raoul, as he realises just _who _that little sweetie in the white dress, who appears to be radioactive, is. But since he's the patron, wouldn't he kind of know that Carlotta had stormed out, and been replaced at short notice, and been told exactly who had filled the diva's expensive little shoes?**

**Apparently not. But anyway, the metaphoric penny drops, as I said before.**

Raoul: Can it be? Can it be Christine? (starts clapping like a loony, even though he's not supposed to at this point, and consequently makes a bit of a twit of himself.)

**Isn't it just _so _funny when people in films do that?**

**...Well, I thought it was funny.**

Raoul(apparently forgetting what gender Christine is, which may be a _leetle _embarrassing later on): Bravo! She is _so _hot; how come I didn't notice her before? Oh, wait – I guess I kind of passed her by back in the rehearsal. Oh well, she may not remember me – but I remember her! Wonder if she'll go out with me? (So saying, he leaves the box – despite the fact it's _extremely _rude to do that in the middle of a performance. But he's a Vicomte, and the patron, so I guess he can do what he likes.)

**Meanwhile, back on the stage, Christine's finishing the song – finally!**

Christine(grinning, because she _knows _she's gonna shake the house down with her party piece): _But please promise me that sometimes, you will think – o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-_**(_Love _her little grin just here!)**_OOOOOF MEEEEE!_

House: (Is accordingly shaken down.)

Random people backstage: _You go, girl!_

Carlotta's maid, who is spying on the show: Ooooo, Madam's _so_ not gonna be pleased.

**Everyone in the audience in the opera house stands up while applauding – won't the real audience members _please_ stand up?**

Audience in cinema: (believe adapted rap is actually request, and obediently stand up.)

**Not _you_ lot; it's just an expression I pinched off Eminem! Sit down again!**

Audience in cinema: Ooops. Sorry. (They all sit down again, with much pushing and shoving and jostling for seats and popcorn and souvenir phantom masks.)

**Thank you. Everyone's applauding Christine, even Reyer, who because we drugged him up so much for the gala – because we had a sneaky suspicion the people in the front row wouldn't want to have paper aeroplanes thrown at them all evening - has gone beyond high, and is actually tranquil, if off with the little paper aeroplanes altogether. But he still manages to give Christine a nice clap, which is always appreciated – just as fan fiction authors appreciate nice reviews.**

Audience in opera house: Anyone's better than Carlotta; but you go anyway girl!

Christine: Oh my God, I'm self actualised!

Phantom(still floating in his little boat): That's my little girl up there!

**What? As in the admiring parent sense of the word, or as in 'that's _my _girl, buster!'?**

Joel: With the way that we characterized him, probably both.

**I think I'm going to go with the latter, if it's all the same to you. I like to think of the Phantom as a romantic lover, not a pervert.**

Phantom: _Finally, _a critic who doesn't run me down all the time!

Joel: Knock yourself out. Can I have some more doodlebags?

**Yes, yes, in a minute. Let's get this chapter done, okay?**

Christine: Thank you, thank you – I'd like to thank all the little people…Now, could someone _please _help me get off the stage? I still can't move…

**Meanwhile, Carlotta's maid is hurrying out to a carriage outside, where Carlotta and Piangi are sitting. So how did they actually perform the opera if Piangi wasn't in it either?**

Joel: We assume Piangi _did _have a stand-in.

**Probably made the opera a darn sight better as a result, since he can't even pronounce most of the words properly. Well, the maid reaches the carriage, although she looks really, _really _edgy about telling her mistress the bad news about her replacement. Not surprising, given the circumstances.**

Carlotta: So; how they all doing? They weeping and wailing to have me back?

Maid: Umm…not exactly. I've got some good news, some bad news, and some really bad news, Madame.

Carlotta: Hmm, tricky decision. I take…the bad news first.

Maid: The bad news is, there is no good news.

Carlotta: I have _very _bad feeling about this. And the really bad news?

Maid: Ahhh…(very quickly indeed) They-kinda-replaced-you-with-Christine-Daaé-and-the-audience-sorta-love-her-and-you're-kinda-yesterday's-news-please-please-please-don't-hurt-me!

Carlotta: (Glaring at Piangi): Something you forget to mention?

Piangi(aware that his next sentence could well be his last): …Meep?

**For his potentially final sentence, he really doesn't make a very good job of it, does he?**

Carlotta: Thought so. _Waaaa._ (Faints.)(3)

**Drama queen or what? I'm going to go with 'or what'. Oh well, at least Piangi doesn't have to die with '…Meep?' as his final word. I mean, really, just _how_ humiliating would it be to have an immortal epitaph that makes you sound like a mouse being trodden on? Very, methinks. People would be sniggering at his funeral. **

**Back in the opera house, everyone's basically over the moon that they've had a successful gala. The stage hands are hugging each other, the dancers are hugging each other, and everyone's hugging the ballet girls – especially André and Firmin. They may be dumb in many respects, but those two can certainly recognise opportunities to fondle the girls with the assurance they won't get slapped like there's no tomorrow for it.**

Firmin: YAY! It wasn't a disaster! The audience loves it! We're rich! We won't have to give the money back! YAY!

André:(Hugging people at random) I'm so happy! I love you! And I love you too, even though I have no idea who you are! (He is about to hug yet another unwitting victim, when his eyes suddenly narrow.) Hang on – I do know who you are…you're that guy who said my name was fishy, aren't you?

Another random guy(who is): Umm…no?

André: Hard luck, buster, I never forget a face. YOU'RE FIRED – AGAIN! Oh, yeah – that felt _good_…my first official firing!

Yet another random backstage guy: Okay, we've got a weirdo for one of our managers – can I run and hide behind something?

André: YOU'RE FIRED TOO, SMARTASS!

Firmin: And clearly not the last official firing either; or so it would seem.

**Meanwhile, while everyone's celebrating, Christine has managed to somehow evade all the surging masses of delighted backstage crew without being noticed – which she does surprisingly well for a girl wearing a white dress with such a big, puffy skirt – and disappear down a dark passageway. Meg is, naturally, the only one who notices, and so follows, being the nosy little brat she is.**

Meg: Hey! I'm _not _a brat!

**If you'd taken the time to read the original novel by Gaston Leroux, you'd know that the younger ballet girls were generally referred to as brats –and not rats, as some writers seem to think is accurate.**

Meg: Oh. Okay, then.

**We find Christine in the chapel, kneeling down-**

Christine: Umm…I _can't _actually kneel down. You know, the dress, it's still rock hard and all, so if I did kneel down, it'd sort of stay where it was and also go _up _– I mean, I want to bare my soul, but I don't think my father or my Angel would appreciate it if I bared anything else in the process.

**I think in the case of the latter, he may not mind – but I see your point. Joel, if you would?**

Joel: Sure. (Performs a really _kewl_ little director's trick that's too complicated to explain briefly, involving the flow of the space time continuum and a nifty costume change; a few seconds later Christine is wearing another dress that is exactly the same as the first one, except that it isn't as stiff as a board, and doesn't glow in the dark.)

**Well done. Have a doodlebag in advance as a reward. (Tosses him the doodlebag, which he catches in his mouth like one of those seals in water shows.) So, we find Christine in the chapel, kneeling down, lighting a candle. We also see her father's photograph. It's a really nice image; but in the minds of the phans it lacks but one thing to make it complete…**

Phantom: Brava, brava; bravissima…proving I know how to speak Italian properly, unlike the _fop, _who uses _bravo_ for any occasion.

**And now it _is _complete.**

Phans in the audience: OMG, OMG, OMG; it's the Phantom! HE'S THERE!

**_Calm_ it; he's only - in theory - spoken three words, as of yet. Leave your squeeing for later.**

Meg: Yeah, this is one of the few parts in the film where I get to sing by myself, and I don't want it ruined by you lot squealing your heads off.

Phans: Oh, _fine. _(Finger their Punjab lassos.)

**Where do these girls _get_ those props? I wasn't even aware you _could _buy Punjab lassos. Anyways, Christine's about to speak, when, with classic timing, Meg comes in, ruining the moment.**

Phantom: Oh, DAMN. Never mind; another time, my darling…

Meg: Christine; _where in the world have you been hiding?_ Although, come to think of it, what exactly do I mean by hiding? Do I mean just now in the chapel, or keeping her talents concealed over the years?

**Don't look at me. Joel's the one who wrote the script – and Andrew before him.**

Meg: I'll go with years, then. It makes more sense. _Really, you were perfect. I only wish I knew your secret – who is your great tutor?_

**A tricky moment, where Christine, for some reason, has flashbacks of herself as a little girl, holding Madame Giry's hand, and praying at her father's bedside – though not at the same time. A moment in which she reflects upon all that has happened to her since she lost her father; of the kindly prescience who has tended and nurtured her; who has made her swear to secrecy never to breathe a word of his – or perhaps it, since it is assumed that most angels are androgynous, which would be a pretty big blow for Erik if he _was _– to anyone, for fear of losing him forever; who has her promise that she will reveal his existence and influence in her life to _nobody_.**

**Then again, she has confidence in her friend. Which is nice. Trust is always important in friendships. And I am _not _making a parody of that.**

Christine: Well, all right then, if you really want to know – see, my father once spoke of an angel, and even though it would appear it was just the one time, it sort of stuck in my head; and I used to dream he'd appear – see, I _know _it's a he - and he did appear, Meg! He's been hiding in my room and teaching me to sing!

Meg: …Umm…Christine? How can I say this…stuff like this _doesn't_ happen, except in nice dreams – _really nice dreams…_Ahem. Sorry. Angels don't come down to earth and hide in girls' wardrobes-

Christine:(Panicked) NO! DON'T SAY THAT! Every time someone says that, an angel somewhere falls down dead! Don't say it! Don't say it! (Starts clapping her hands frantically.) I DO believe in angels! I do! I do!

Meg: Good _grief_. Soon it'll be a nose job and a Never-land ranch.

**(Sorry. I apologise for this to anyone who may not appreciate it; especially with all the trouble with Michael Jackson. Normally I'm not a big fan of Christine being a ditzy airhead; but this was just too much fun – for me at least – to leave out. Sorry again to anyone who is offended by this.)**

Christine: I _believe_ in angels!

Phantom: Ah, an ABBA classic – I have tutored her well.

**(I can safely say, however, that I have _no _regrets about that one.)**

Meg: Come on, Christine, let's get you back to your room, and I'll get you something warm to drink…

Christine: But it's the truth!

Meg: …and then you can have a nice lie down. You've obviously been working too hard.

**The two friends make their way back to Christine's – or Carlotta's, I suppose – room, bickering about the 'Angel of Music'. Josef Buquet is spying on them. What _is_ the problem with that man, doesn't he have something better to do? It's bad enough that Christine's best friend thinks she's not quite right in the head without the most lecherous stagehand in the building knowing about it too.**

Buquet: Hey! I resent that remark!

**Very well, Josef: what were you doing at midday today?**

Buquet: Midday? ...I guess I was spying on the ballet girls getting changed.

**Mmm-_hmm_. And at five o'clock?**

Buquet: I was stalking Meg.

**And half an hour ago, when you were up in the flies?**

Buquet: I was trying to look down Christine's top.

Phantom: Oh, I am _so _gonna kill him for that.

**I rest my case. So, Christine and Meg arrive back at the dressing room of dubious ownership, still in the middle of a fierce debate.**

Meg: …You could have taken some of Reyer's pills without knowing, you know.

Christine: Every night running since I came here from when I was seven?

Meg: These things _can_ happen, you know.

Christine: Meg, I have _not _been getting high! Honestly, I expected a bit more support from my best friend!

Meg: I _am _supporting you, girl. I'm concerned about your welfare! If I wasn't concerned about the fact that you're claiming an Angel hides in your wardrobe and sings to you, I wouldn't be a very good friend, would I?

Giry(Popping up out of nowhere, like those strange, _scary_ butlers always seem to do in horror films): Yes, well, don't be. You were very good, Christine dear; but as for the _rest _of you (glaring at Meg and the ballet girls) – well, let's just say I've seen better moves on line-dancers.

Ballet Girl: That's rather harsh, Marm.

Giry (scarily): _Not as harsh as I'm going to be!_ (4)

Another ballet girl: Methinks we should run?

**As a man – or girl, or something – the ballet girls run for it. Wise girls.**

Giry: Come on, Meg, time to go. And while we're going, you can tell me what you were chatting to Christine about…

Meg: (Struggling as Giry drags her off down the corridor) You'll never make me talk – _never! _Christine! Trust nobody! Just say no! It's not worth it!

Christine: …And she thinks _I'm _on pills?

**Meanwhile, Firmin, André and Raoul are making their way to the dressing room. Raoul, while believing Christine _won't _remember him, appreciates the fact that if she _does _remember him, she's not going to be too pleased with him for basically ignoring her back in the rehearsal; so to play it safe he's brought some really nice flowers, and some champagne.**

Firmin: I think we've made quite a discovery with Miss. Daaé, Vicomte!

André(enthusiastically): Yes, let's all go in and congratulate her!

Raoul: Umm…maybe not. (He shuts the door in their faces.)

Firmin: I think they may have met before.

Raoul: Hi, Christine.

Christine(not looking up from her mirror): Oh, did I hear something? Or was that just an annoying little bug that somehow got in?

André: (Listening through door) Yup – they've _definitely _met before.

Raoul: Come on, Christine; how was I supposed to know it was you back there in the rehearsal?

Christine: So I'm supposed to be flattered that you didn't recognise me until I was in centre stage, dressed to kill and the star of the show?

Raoul (more softly, putting the flowers and the champagne on the table beside her): No – because the Christine at the rehearsals wasn't the same Christine I knew all those years back. You were a shadow of your former self. But now – now you've come into the light again. And you are beautiful in the light.

**(I realise this dialogue isn't in the film, but I don't want everyone to hate my Raoul – well…not much - and the Little Lotte stuff has always been, in my opinion, rather stupid; so I stuck in this mushy bit as consolation. Satisfied? When you're not throwing up, I mean.)**

Christine: Aww…you're so sweet – of course I forgive you. (They have a big old hug.)

Phantom(hiding behind the mirror): Grrr.

Raoul: So, how've you been since we last saw each other?

Christine: Oh, you know, the usual…my father died, I came to live in the opera house, I got taught by the Angel of Music-

Raoul: Sorry? What was that last bit?

Christine(should have learnt her lesson from Meg's reaction, but ploughs ahead anyway): The Angel of Music. You know, my favourite story? I hoped to hear the Angel of Music singing songs in my head all the time when I was little. Well, he came! Father sent him to me from heaven! He's been teaching me to sing, Raoul!

Raoul: Yeah, okay Christine; that's really sweet. Now, how about you come out to dinner, and we can catch up on old times.

Christine: Uh, sorry Raoul, no can do. See, the Angel forbids me from going out with other guys.

Raoul: If the Angel told you to walk off a cliff, would you do it?

Christine: Well…umm…let me think about that-

Raoul: Never mind. Look, I'll be back in two minutes; will you be ready at the end of that absurdly short period of time?

Christine: I suppose so;but look, Raoul-

Raoul: _Great. _I'll be back in two, then. And then we'll be _all _alone…

Phantom: GRRRR.

Raoul: Are there building works somewhere near here? Because I keep hearing this sort of weird drilling sound, and all.

Christine: I don't think so; but, Raoul-

Raoul: I'll see you back here then.

Christine: But _Raoul_-

Raoul: So long.

Christine: But-

Raoul: Until two minutes.

Christine: Raoul, would you please shut _up _for one second and let me-

Raoul: Toodles. (Leaves.)

Christine: How come when I _do _tell the truth, no one believes me?

**Because whenever you do tell the truth, it's so strange that nobody sensible can be expected to believe it.**

Christine: Oh. I guess _that's_ true.

**Outside, Erik locks the door with the key, which just happens to on the outside of the door rather than inside, for some reason. Madame Giry stands by, looking pretty nervous, which is a novelty in itself.**

Phan girls: OMG! THAT'S HIS GLOVE! THAT'S _HIS _GLOVE! OMG!

**The thought of what they're going to be like when he actually appears on screen is not to be contemplated.**

Giry (worried): Are you _sure _this is a good idea?

Phantom: Of course. It's _my _idea after all.

Giry: That's what I'm worried about. For all you know, she may have a heart attack or something.

Phantom: You think I'd spend all these years slaving to turn her into a diva, only to make her have a heart attack?

Giry: It's a distinct possibility. In this day and age all women seem capable of keeling over simply from being too beautiful, so goodness knows what effect the sudden appearance of a strange masked man would do to her.

Phantom: No, that's just corsets. These girls wear them much too tight these days.

Giry: It's easier and quicker than dieting, at least.(5)

Phantom: Look, just bear with me, will you? Nothing is going to go wrong.

Giry: Oh, _all right_. Just try not to scare her senseless, okay?

Phantom: Okay. Now, I must be off, to make all the lights in the building magically go out at the same time, and set up the magic drum set, and get behind the mirror.

Giry:…So, can I say, 'I told you so', now – or do I have to wait until everything goes wrong?

Phantom: You're not making any friends here, you do know that?

**Back in the dressing room, Christine comes out from behind a screen, having shed her dress – which is quite an achievement, considering how big that thing is, and the fact that she didn't have anyone to help her, which creates some interesting theories as to how she did it, which involve double jointed-ness, and _are not for the squeamish_ – in favour of something rather more _risqué_; a _tight _corset, a low cut chemise under it, and stockings with lace garters. For such an up-laced society, it would seem that Victorian women still managed to wear _extremely_ sexy underwear. **

Guys in the audience: Oh…my…GOD. _Thank you, Lord._ **(The drool starts to form a pool. Eww. Hey, that rhymes…_ewww._)**

**She has, however, made some concession to formality, since her childhood friend could come bursting in at any time, by tying a see-through dressing gown around herself. **

**All right, maybe not _that_ much of a concession. **

**Anyway, just as she's finished doing that, all the candles in her room suddenly blow out, at about the same time. As if _that's _not enough of a clue that something odd is going on here, there is a sudden, dramatic drum roll. Christine, understandably, looks just a _little_ alarmed at this. (I rather love this moment, since it seems to be just about the _only_ point in the film that a character actually seems puzzled that music has suddenly started out of nowhere, with no evident instruments in sight, and even a little alarmed, as any normal person would be; instead of simply bursting into song automatically.)**

**Naturally, she makes for the door – not that it would have done her much good, as we know it's locked - when _suddenly-_**

Phantom: _Insolent boy-_

Phan girls: SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! IT'S HIM! IT'S-

**Cut. It. Out. _Now. _**

Phan girls: Okay. (Cower.)

Phantom: _Insolent boy, this slave of fashion; basking in _your _glory! _I made you a success, and _this _is how you repay me? By flirting with some _fop?_

Christine: Hey! I was _not _flirting with him, okay?

Phantom(with veiled sarcasm): Of course you weren't. _'Aww…you're so sweet – of course I forgive you.' _Thank you so _very_ much indeed.

Christine: Oh Angel, I'm so sorry; I didn't mean it to happen. It just – happened. It was an accident.

Phantom: Christine; when Mozart died without finishing his last piece of work, _that_ could have been considered an accident. That doesn't mean I have to be _happy_ about it.

Christine: I'm sorry! Please forgive me. I was just being a silly little girl. Please, Angel, show yourself – hang on, I've known this bloke for, like, nine years, and this is the _first_ time I've asked to see him?

**So it would seem.**

Phantom: Oh, well, if you _really _insist – _look at your face in the mirror – I am there insiiiiiiide!_

**Christine accordingly looks at the mirror; and low and behold – stick your fingers in your ears, people –**

Phan girls: SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! IT'S HIM! IT'S HIM! IT'S HIIIIIIIIIM!

**Erm - yes. Low and behold, a man dressed all in black, with a white half mask, and an exciting aerodynamically designed hairdo, appears in the mirror, as such figures do. Well, at least in films. And in dreams – _really nice dreams…_**

Christine: Whoa. What can I say…_whoa_.

Phantom: Is that _all _you can say?

Christine: Umm…how about, _Come to me, strange angel_?

Phantom: Better than that – you can come to _me_.

Christine: Why? Not that I'm complaining or anything…

Phantom: Because you _boyfriend's _outside the door, because we can't really sing a romantic, powerful and searing duet in your dressing room, and also because _I am your Angel of Music…come to me, Angel of Music…_

**Erik must have gotten top marks in hypnotism, since Christine gets this really weird look on her face – you know, _that _look, with her mouth half open, and her eyes all dreamy…did I mention her mouth was half open? Anyway, she starts going towards the mirror – when-**

Raoul(having come back at just the right time to catch Christine and Erik in the act – or at least he would be if the door wasn't locked): Hey! Who is that in there?

Phantom: **_Drop dead, fop. _**

Christine: (Looking back at the door) So…stay in room and go out to dinner with Raoul? Or let myself be spirited away by my Angel of Music? Tricky.

Phantom(Sensing that if he delays this much longer, he's not going to be singing _The Phantom of the Opera_ any time soon – at least, not with Christine): _I am your Angel of Music…come to me, Angel of Music…_

**The look comes back on Christine's face. That is one powerful tune.**

Christine: Oh, yeah. _Definitely_ the mirror.

Raoul: Christine? CHRISTINE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?

Everybody(basically Christine, Erik, the audience, and anyone else who counts, even Joel): (Ignores him.)

**So Christine walks towards the mirror – and unlike in the stage-show, where the mirror surface simply moves aside to let her through, she somehow seems to _walk _right through the mirror. So how does _that_ work? And, perhaps more importantly, why _exactly_ does Erik have a secret passage leading to Carlotta's dressing room, and through her mirror?**

Phantom: Shut up; you're ruining the moment.

**Oh, yeah. So, we see Christine's face, all pretty and glowy – guess she didn't clean all of her stage makeup off, then. Then – ooooh, chills time! – we see a black clad glove, held out towards her. Her fingers reach out, hesitate, and then touch his; and _he _cups her fingers in his own. _Oh,_ yes…one of the highlights of the film. **

Giry(popping up for some reason, even though there is no reason whatsoever she is in this scene): So it begins-

**I swear, if you use that line to end my chapters one more time, I will do something _extremely_ unpleasant to you.**

Giry: Okay.

* * *

(1) Adeline Yen Mah's books _Chinese Cinderella, Falling Leaves, Watching the Tree _and _A Thousand Pieces of Gold _are all extremely good; I seriously recommend them. Watching the Tree is a bit heavy going sometimes; but the other two are really good.

(2) I think this line was heavily influenced by Randombattlecry's Leroux Erik. So I'm admitting it. Don't shoot me!

(3)_This_ is influenced by Cleodina's Phantom in Fifteen minutes. Again, don't shoot me.

(4) And _this _come straight from _Merlin_, in which Miranda Richardson played Queen Mab, and spoke this actual line – albeit sounding as if she had tonsillitis. I identify with her character very strongly, since when I first saw it I myself had tonsillitis, so I sounded very much like her….And now I'm done.

(5) While we are on the subject, DO NOT diet to extremes; and never, ever – though I doubt many of you would be able to put this practice into process – wear a corset. THEY ARE NOT GOOD FOR YOU. THEY SQUEEZE YOUR INTERNAL ORGANS OUT OF SHAPE. THEY ARE BAD. All right, done.

* * *

**Review, please?**


	5. POTO: Seranade of waterproof guitars

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Well, except for the really snarky comments that make me look good and everyone else look daft.**

**

* * *

Let it be said that I am REALLY sorry for not updating this for so long. I've been busy, and my time was taken up by my other works, and I had exams, and…**

…**oh, there's no excuse. I am a horrid authoress. Never mind, perhaps these next few chapters will help you to forgive me?**

**

* * *

Our intrepid heroine and – hmm. Erik isn't exactly the _best_ role-model-**

Phan girls: WHAT ARE YOU _TALKING_ ABOUT? HOW CAN YOU _NOT_ BE INTERESTED IN THE CONTENTS OF ERIK'S TROUSERS! (Drool.)

**All right, I suppose he _is_ a role model in a way; just not for those who are under-aged, in any case, considering the fact that he hangs out behind mirrors in dressing rooms and strangles people he's annoyed with. Let's call him an anti-hero, then. **

**Our intrepid heroine and anti-hero are basically where we left them at the end of the last chapter. Actually, to be perfectly honest, their hands are where we left them; since the action was paused when Madame Giry showed up for some reason, to ruin the end with that catchphrase which I was so pleased with when I first wrote this phic, but now wish I will never see again. Although knowing my luck, it'll probably find its way into every single chapter. Actually, that's quite a good idea for a new game – Spot The Catchphrase!**

**So, to get back on track; why is the phic still paused after all this time, I hear you cry?**

**Well, I don't _actually _hear you cry, since anyone who's reading this isn't exactly sitting in my immediate vicinity – I'm not sure if any of you even live in the region of Surrey, although Kat097 _does _live in Kent – and I don't have special speakers on my computer to hear your wails of anguish, and I most certainly do not have awesome author powers; but you get my meaning.**

**And my answer to your plea is this:**

**We're starting it up again now. **

**All right?**

**Good.**

**So now, after toil, tears and sweat (all on my part), you lucky lot, it's what you've all been waiting for:**

**

* * *

Chapter Four: _Phantom of the Opera _(_Where_ exactly can you plug in electric guitars underground?)( exactly can you plug in electric guitars underground?)****

* * *

Joel un-pauses the film, while eating one of the doodlebags _very _slowly…he's doing that just to spite me. Damn him. _Damn him._**

**Erik and Christine's hands touch…again, only this time without Madame Giry ruining it. Oooh. Maybe I shouldn't have said that – I could have jinxed it.**

**An extremely pregnant pause.**

**Nope. No Madame Giry.**

**(Phew.) **

**Carry on.**

**Their hands touch; and we all know, instinctively, with our special Phantom senses, that this is it – the one we've all been avidly anticipating. Apart from those people who've been anticipating Music of the Night. Or All I Ask of You. Or Point of No Return. But apart from that… **

**Anyway, we know. Of course, the big blast of organ music which accordingly rattles our ear drums for us is a bit of a hint as well. Such dramatic chords do tend to hammer the point home, if not half way up your ear canal.**

**Anyway again, next there's a long shot of a corridor, with strange candelabras shaped like arms sticking out of the walls, which actually start to bend –**

Phantom: Now that _is _strange, even for me.

Christine: You're telling me. Why exactly _do _you have bendy arm candelabras?

Joel: Well, his cape's a bit of a fire hazard, and we didn't really want our leading man to go up in smoke, but we also wanted big burning torches for better effect, so we reached a compromise; we'd have candelabras which bent out of the way, so they wouldn't set him on fire by mistake.

Phantom: I _see_. That does make an odd sort of sense - a _very _odd sort of sense; but it's there…

Joel: Only, because we couldn't reach a compromise on the budget, we decided to go with a cheap, money saving idea.

**Which was?**

Joel: We covered some of the crew's arms in gold paint, and made them stick their arms through the walls and hold the candelabras.

Various crew members hidden behind the solid seeming stone walls with their arms stuck through the scenery, covered in gold paint and grasping the candelabras: _Hi, Mum! I'm in Phantom of the Opera!_

**Sorry to disappoint, but strictly speaking you _aren't_, since you're not on screen, because we can only see your arms – which is kind of the point of the whole thing.**

Various crew members(_really _disappointed): _Awwww!_

**Never mind; you'll be mentioned in the credits, while the audience are serenaded with _Learn to be Lonely. _(Fact! Go and look at the credits! The people who played the bendy arm candelabras really _are_ mentioned there! Aren't I just so _sad?_)**

Various crew members(hopefully): _We will?_

**You will if I have anything to do with it. I appreciate suffering for the art of a good film. Besides, Joel owes me something for the doodlebags.**

Phantom: So you mean that while Christine and I are singing a romantic, powerful and searing duet, there are in fact lots of people behind the walls listening to everything we say?

Joel: Would you rather walk along in the dark? Because we can do that if you want.

Phantom: No, no, that's quite all right. It's just; it sort of…detracts from the atmosphere, if you know what I mean.

Christine: I certainly do. This is _freaky_.

Joel: Look, bear with it, all right? You're only in this set for just about one verse.

Phantom: That's easy for you to say; you're not walking along with loads of seemingly severed arms bending out of the way for you to pass.

**Just be glad it's arms, and not anything else. Erik leads Christine towards us, along the corridor, with the arms bending out of the way before them, and miraculously managing to do it in time with their pace, despite the fact the arms' owners can't actually see what's going on over the other side of the wall. Erik keeps looking back at Christine, as if expecting that she's going to do some sort of vanishing trick, then looking forward again – presumably so that he doesn't bump into a candelabra that's too slow to bend out of the way in time – with a _very _smouldering look. **

**Oh, no, wait, that's just a pout. I think. Either way, it's quite sexy.**

Christine(obviously thinking this is a good time to sing, with the _dun dun dun_ that's now playing in the background and everything): _In sleep he sang to me – _although it would have been a bit hard for me to hear him if I was asleep at the time, if you think about it – _in dreams he came _– so what Meg said about really nice dreams _was _true!

**Pretty much, yes. Then, there's a sudden clapping noise from nowhere-**

Christine: Actually, it's the candelabra thingies clapping together. Hey, so _that's_ what they're for!

Joel(smugly): Yup – they look impressive _and _they have a hidden ulterior motive!

Phantom: What – for clapping in time to the music?

Joel: Of course.

…**Moving swiftly on; Christine carries on singing.**

Christine: _That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name – And do I dream again?- _

**Swift scene change after leaving the weird corridor with all the bendy arms, Erik and Christine are now making their way down a curving staircase; Christine is still singing the same part of the song even though Erik has had time to get hold of a lit torch, exchange hands holding her, and lead her part way down the staircase – which means that either he's a pretty nifty little Opera ghost, or that she's a very slow singer…or possibly just desired editing. Take your pick, it doesn't really matter.**

Christine: -_ For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there; inside my mind! _And he's also holding my hand!

**_Clever_ girl. Next they walk out onto a set of steps leading down further into the bowels of the earth – I don't know why I said that, since I don't really like that phrase; it makes me think of _very_ unpleasant things. But it seems to fit here, so I'll use it – and we catch sight of a black horse that just _happens _to be tethered at the bottom of the stairs. **

Fans of the stage productions, who presumably _haven't_ seen the film before: What the f - laming hell?

**(You seriously thought I was going to use the _other_ 'f' word for a second, didn't you? Yes, well, I didn't. **

**So there.) **

Fans of the Gaston Leroux book (who presumably haven't seen the film before either): OMG, they actually gave a nod to the book! Yay, Joel!

**That's all very well, but** **what on _earth_ can you _feed_ a horse on at least four levels below the opera house? Best not to dwell on that. And our beloved Erik gets ready to sing – and we all get ready for both some heavy squeeing, and some heavy jeering.**

Phantom: _Sing once again with me-_

Gerry fans: _(Squee, squee and more squee – squees galore, in fact.)_

Michael Crawford fans(those who aren't boycotting this film because he's not in it): They cast _that _over _Michael? Gerrimoff!_

Gerry fans: _You take that back! _(Fight, as with Sarah Brightman and Emmy fans, breaks out. Phantom fans are _very _violent creatures, or so it would seem.)

**(At this point in the proceedings, I would like to state that the way Gerard Butler portrayed the Phantom is _mostly_ my favourite – not that I've had many examples to follow, since I've only seen the stage show in London once, in 2004, and I never actually saw Michael Crawford perform live – though, judging by the promo on the extras DVD, I still would have liked Gerard better. At the same time, I am aware that Michael has a very good voice, and I am not dismissing him, anymore than anything else I use in this fan fiction; or anyone who does like his voice. At the same time again, I am not saying that it is impossible to like both Gerry and Michael's voices – there are plenty of people out there who do. I am simply exploiting opinions and exaggerating them in order to give my public the laughs they want. Satisfied?)**

Phantom: May I continue, please?

**Oh yes, do go on.**

Phantom: Thank _you_ _- our strange duet… _not that we've actually been singing a duet, since to do that you have to be singing together, rather than in turn. But since we'll be doing that in a few minutes, I'll subside. _My pow-_

Joel(very excited, bobbing up and down and waving his hand in the air, like Meg did in the Hannibal chapter): Ooo! Ooo! OOO! Can I sing that line?

…**What _are _you talking about, Joel?**

Joel: Well, I sang it on the sing-along on the DVD; and I just thought it would be _so _cool to actually do it in the movie.

**And…_why_ would I want to let you do that?**

Joel: Because I'm the director, and if I don't get my way I'll sulk, doodlebags or no doodlebags.

**I have no idea why I'm doing this; and I know this is probably very, _very _wrong, and I _know _that I will almost certainly regret this decision – but I'm feeling generous. So yes, you _can_ sing the line. But in order to do that, you'll have to pause the film – otherwise the phans might punjab us.**

Joel: No problem. I can do that. (Accordingly pauses the film, and gets ready to sing.)

**I have a feeling in my left eyebrow. Whenever something bad is about to happen, my eyebrow starts to ache. And now it's aching like mad.**

Joel(sings in the voice he used on the DVD): _My pow-_

**Unfortunately, in his excitement, he accidentally presses the play button, and starts the film again, so that he's actually singing to Erik without noticing. But – Erik _is_ noticing. My eyebrow is _really _killing me now. And –**

**Oh, dear _God_.**

Joel: _-er over you-_

**Joel, stop singing now! **

Joel(completely carried away): _-grows stronger yet-_

**Joel, stop! Stop! STOP!**

Joel: _- and though you turn from me-_

**JOEL, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, RIGHT AND JUST, _STOP_ SINGING!**

Joel(snapping out of it): Wha! YIKES! (sees what happening, and stops the film right away – all is plunged into darkness.)

**(Silence.)**

_**Joel?**_

Joel: Yeeees?

**Never, _ever _sing again. Understood? **

Joel: Understood.

Various audience members who haven't the faintest clue what just happened, partly because the theatre got blacked out, and partly because I wasn't narrating for their benefit but screaming desperately at Joel for the last few lines – as well as all you who are reading this chapter, I should imagine: …._What_ exactly happened back there?

**I _could_ tell you – but the pain in my eyebrow warns me that if I did, you would all come after me and Joel with flaming torches and pitchforks and scythes and chase us up a windmill of sorts and then punjab us – _extremely_ slowly – for daring to let such an occurrence occurring to our beloved Phantom in this phic.**

Joel: Your left eyebrow told you all _that_?

**The eyebrow never lies. It keeps me alive – and in some cases, sane. Such as now. Don't worry, everyone; _no one_ was harmed in the making of this scene – although…but we won't go there. You'll just have to use your imaginations, you sadistic little readers, you! Joel, rewind it back to the 'power' line – then shut up and don't say another word for the rest of this chapter.**

Joel:(Doesn't dare speak, but nods, and accordingly rewinds.)

**We go back to when Erik is about to sing the line that Joel wanted so desperately – and since the film is rewound, and the…occurrence, that happened when Joel was singing, hasn't actually happened yet – and won't, either, if Joel knows what's good for him – both Erik and Christine are still fully clothed – not that they lost any clothing in the process, I assure you! - relatively unharmed, and without mental scars of any sort, or memories of what followed the first time around, since it hasn't happened to them yet – and it _won't. _In my case, however…that is the price I pay for my foolishness. And I bear the burden patiently, as penance for my grave error. Although I may have to go into therapy for years afterwards. But I will be strong!**

**Now, roll it again.**

Phantom(blissfully unaware of what he'd been doing in an alternate version of the song - and it's probably just as well, otherwise _he _might try to punjab me): _My power over you, grows stronger yet-_

Christine(she of the rapidly darkening eye-makeup): What sort of power?

**The girl just walks into these things, doesn't she?**

Phantom: Well, if you _would _like a demonstration – _come over here and kiss me!_

**Christine accordingly gets the 'dreamy' look – how can anyone find that even _remotely_ attractive? – and walks up to Erik. **

**_This_ is an unexpected factor. This is a very major development in the proceedings. This could overrule the whole plot of the film. It could change the story – or even the fabric of space and time - as we know it…**

Christine: (Stands up on tiptoes – because Erik's quite tall – and then, just as she's about to lay a smooch on him so powerful she might suck whatever he had for lunch right back up, she abruptly stops moving. Paused. Just like that. Which is probably just as well, since I for one _really _don't want to know what you have to eat down in the sewers for lunch.)

**Only it won't, because Joel's paused it. Well done, Joel. **

Joel(still not daring to speak, but acknowledging the praise all the same): Mmm _mmm!_

Phantom(_seriously _ticked off – well, who can blame him?): _Awww!_

_**No kissing.**_

Phantom: You're out to ruin my life, aren't you?

**Believe me, if I wanted to ruin your life, I could have shown the audience that clip of you back there. _Then _your life would have been over, trust me on that.**

Phantom:…What clip?

**Umm…never mind! I'm the narrator, and Joel's the director, and we both agree that you can't start kissing her at this stage.**

Phantom: But _why?_

**Because it detracts from the mystery and romance of the film if you two start exchanging saliva straight away. So no using your power over her to take advantage of her-**

Phantom: I _wasn't, _I just told her to kiss me-

**It's only a few steps from kissing to getting off– not that _I'd _know, but I have it from higher authorities. So, as I said before, no using your power to take advantage of her – or kiss her. **

Phantom: Can I at least touch her?

**...Yes. **

Phantom: _Yay!_

**But no all out fondling. And until Music of the Night, you'll keep her at arms length, _if _you please; or else _I_ will _not _be pleased. This _is _a PG-13, after all.**

Joel: See! I _told_ you this was a family film!

**And I believe _I_ told you to shut up and not say another word for the rest of the chapter?**

Joel: You did. But I had something to say. And now I'm done. (Shuts up.)

**Good. So, we'll just un-pause it – because I don't think the film would stand it if we rewound it _again _– but with Christine _not _about to kiss Erik this time.**

E/C shippers(_seriously _disappointed: _AWWWWWWW!_

**_Don't you lot start._ This chapter is turning out to be much more trouble than I had anticipated – and we're not even half way through Phantom of the Opera yet. Speaking of which, let's get on with it, shall we?**

**Joel un-pauses the film yet again, and Erik – somewhat sulkily – starts leading Christine along again; who seemingly has no memory of being about to kiss her Angel of Music, and then suddenly being at arms length again – guess he's really taking my warning to heart.**

**Another random scene change – now Erik's leading the horse, with Christine on it, down a slippery slope. Or at least, _trying_ to lead it. For some reason, the horse doesn't seem to want to move.**

Phantom:(struggling valiantly to pull the horse along) You don't say. What's the matter with it? It was fine a few minutes ago!

**Umm…I _might _know…but I'm not going to tell you. **

**(Let us just say the horse was a witness of the – occurrence; and its mind wasn't wiped when we rewound the film, for some reason. Which might give you some inkling of what exactly was going on back there, if the horse is too traumatized to move even now. **

**Which also truly carries home the phrase, 'ignorance is bliss'.)**

Phantom: Drastic times call for drastic measures – look, Cesar; I've got a carrot! Lovely orange _carrot!_

**Good job, Erik. Cesar, perking up at the sight of the carrot, starts moving forward again more rapidly. So, now that the mystery of the traumatized horse is put to rest, we can dwell on the even more perplexing and intriguing question – _why_ exactly does Erik carry carrots around in his pockets?**

Phantom:…That's a trade secret.

**And perhaps it's best if it stays that way, for now at least. So, they make their way down to a quay, and Erik helps Christine to get off-**

Christine: That's _it?_ That was all of thirty metres! I could have walked without having to ride, you know; I'm not _that _pathetic.

Phantom: But the ground was all mucky, and while I'm wearing shoes, you're not; and I didn't want your little pink toes to get dirty.

Christine: Aww, that's so thoughtful of you!

**Also, it would seem that it gives Erik the chance to get an eyeful of your garters. What exactly are you wearing underneath that chemise, anyway?**

Christine: Practically nothing.(1)

Phantom:… _All right, Christine!_

**That's _enough_, Erik; curb those hormones. And as for _you_, Christine, I'm ashamed of you. I would have thought a young lady would at least be wearing some sort of underwear.**

Christine: I _am_! It's just – well, we don't tend to talk much about – _underwear, _so we prefer not to mention it.

**Yes, well; let's take a leaf out of your book, shall we? Erik helps her get down from the horse; and the next thing we know they're in the boat, with Erik pushing off. **

**From the bank, not literally pushing off.**

Phantom: Let's hope those sculling lessons pay off.

Christine: Would this be a bad time to mention that I get sea-sick _very_ easily?

Phantom: Yes. I believe it would.

Christine: Oh dear. Oh well, I won't mention it then. _Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear- _although come to think of it, no one's actually seen your face, because no one's seen _you_. I mean, it's a bit hard to see your face if you're wearing a mask, and no one's actually seen you in the first place…

Phantom: I _believe_ you were singing something?

Christine: Oh, yes. _I am the mask you wear-_

Rather more dumb members of the audience: Pretty big mask.

Male members of the rather more dumb members of the audience: Yeah, and pretty too! (Drool.)

Phantom(trying desperately to salvage the situation): _It's me they hear!_

Rather more dumb members of the audience: So, hang on – does that mean that she's pretending to sing, and he's singing for her because she _can't_ sing?

Phantom: …Are we going to go through this sort of thing _every_ time this film is played?

**Unfortunately, yes, judging by what I've read on the net about the viewings of others being ruined for them by hecklers, it would seem so.**

Phantom: May God see fit to keep us sane.

Christine: Amen to _that_.

**I second that. So anyway, as the Phantom sculls them down the little canal, they start singing their 'strange duet', at last.**

Phantom: Just _one_ cornetto - give it to _meeeee_; delicious ice cream – from _Italeeeee!_

**(Sorry. Couldn't resist it. I _know _it's corny – but I _still _couldn't resist it.)**

**Erik and Christine – singing _The Phantom of the Opera, _NOT _One Cornetto_ – consequently sail through lots of damp underground passages, with plenty of stone faces carved into the walls, and muscled torsos holding up the roof. All this seems a tad unnecessary to my eye, considering this is basically the sewers of the building – but it gives for nice shots. Which is always useful in an eye-candy film.**

Christine: Wow, this is all so totally amazing – only I can't really appreciate it because I feel a bit poorly.

Phantom: A bit?

Christine: Well, a lot actually.

**Fortunately, the chorus and the electric guitars chime in at this point, and they, with the added acoustics, drown out the sound of Miss. Daae being poorly at the top of her lungs. **

**You really have to feel sorry for that girl.**

Phantom: Whoever thought up this boat ride certainly didn't account for the weak stomach of the leading lady.

**Life is forever full of surprises. That's what makes it interesting.**

Phantom: No, that's what makes it disgusting. Never mind. Chin up, we're nearly there, look!

Christine: I'd…prefer not to, if it's all the same to you.

Phantom: Oh, well. _Sing for me!_

Christine:…Is there some reason that the fact that I am being violently sick over the side of the boat does not manage to inform your brain that I am in no state to be singing?

Phantom: Oh, yes. Well, just keep your head over the side and hum, then.

Christine: Now that I _can _do.

Robin Hood, Men in Tights. Was there ever a better parody of the be-feathered crusader and his Merry Men? _I think not._

**

* * *

Review, please? For an exhausted, stressed out little half-Irish seamstress?**


	6. MotN: It's ravishing if she doesn't mind

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this. Well, except...no, you'll just have to wait and see.**

**

* * *

Fondest greetings to everyone who sees fit to read this, my mad little attempt at a humorous phic. Have you missed me? I've certainly missed all your reviews – they make up my life. Which says a lot about my life.**

**I have a confession. I must admit, I am _very _nervous about this chapter, because everyone's wrote in and told me that _this _is their favourite song in the whole show - or film or what ever - and they're _really_ looking forward to the way I parody it. Which is all very nice; but with all this responsibility consequently heaped upon my shoulders, it's a bit nerve-racking as well. I mean, what if I write it in a way that isn't funny? Or what if I write in a way that I find funny, but nobody else does? Considering that rather foolishly all the way back in Chapter Two I told you all that I lived in Surrey, you might descend in wrathful droves upon my home county with your little Punjab lassos you bought I don't like to think where, intent on lynching me for ruining this, the Song of Songs.**

**Then again, I might get it just right, and have every phan on this website laughing their little Phantom socks off.**

**It could happen, right?**

_**Right.**_

**Just roll it. **

**

* * *

Chapter Five: Music of the Night OR**

**How to seduce a sixteen year old girl without even touching her...much…**

**

* * *

When we left Erik and Christine, they were still in the boat, with Christine having just loudly lost her dinner - or, technically speaking, lunch, since you aren't supposed to eat before a performance in case it gives you indigestion – which rather of ruined the whole last part of the song, considering she was performing some interesting vocal talent other than singing.**

**But since we – that is, Joel and I – as partners in this _most_ unholy of unions, have made up the row since last chapter, and I have allowed Joel to speak again, methods have been found of rescuing the proceedings when all seems lost.**

**I know it seems unlikely, but it's true; it really is!**

**Well, anyway, we didn't really think that it would be impressive to have Erik singing Music of the Night a.k.a the Song of Songs, to a Christine who still looked as if she was ready to regurgitate all over the place. And so we rose nobly, courageously and valiantly to greet this unexpected hitch in the proceedings.**

**Oh, very well, I confess. We gave in, and gave her a big dose of sea-sickness cure; are you _happy?_**

Christine(feeling much better, and therefore more able to be _seriously _ticked off): _Why couldn't you have given it to me _before _I threw up all over the place?_

**We thought it was funny until you got sick all over Erik's cape.**

Phantom: Not that I mind, of course.

**People say crazy things when they're in love. This is one of them.**

Phantom: No, I actually _really_ don't mind. I have a spare.

Christine: …What do you want a spare cape for?

Phantom: Well, all this cape swirling can be risky – you know, knocking over candlesticks, getting it caught on things…let's just say that over the years I've gone through a lot of them.

Christine: Wouldn't it just be easier if you wore an outfit _without _a cape?

Phantom: I _did_ think of that…but you can't really be an effective Phantom of the Opera without a swishy cape. The cape is _everything_ in this role. It's the iconic image.

**Umm…_mask _ring any bells, perchance? ...Not that there's much of a mask in the first place – but it's the principle of the thing…**

Phantom: Oh, yes – after all, I need to hide my terrible deformity…

Christine: What deformity?

Phantom: _Umm, nothing!_ Look, we're here now – and since you're not being sick all over the upholstery anymore, _sing for me!_

Christine: Yes, my Angel of Music! (Thus starting off lots of shouting from Erik, potentially confusing anyone who is easily perplexed by that sort of thing about who exactly _is _the Angel of Music in this film. I'm not saying people _will _get confused – I'm just saying they might. I mean, for example, anyone who could assume Old Raoul at the start is The Phantom is just asking for trouble.)

**Christine sings very loudly, very sweetly, very highly-**

Music critics in the audience: And _very _digitally enhanced.

**But still prettily. A curtain draws back – what's _that _for? To keep out drafts? – and the gates in front of them magically lift up, to reveal a _very _snazzy looking lair, with candlesticks rising up out of the water – which makes you wonder, how exactly _does _Erik replace the candles when they run out?**

Some random person on the Phantom of the Opera official fan site who just _happens_ to be sitting watching this: I was on the film crew! I lit all those candles! It was _me_!

**Yeah, _right_. The fact that the candles light automatically doesn't dampen your claim by any chance, does it?**

Some random _fake_ person(at least in my opinion, and the opinion of quite a few other people on the net): _Dammit._

**The boat goes on sailing into the lair, with Christine singing and Erik shouting for her to sing some more (that place has a really interesting echo, by the way) and the candlesticks rising up out of the water and lighting spontaneously, when – disaster! A candlestick rises up _right_ in front of the boat!**

**This should be interesting.**

Phantom: _Candlestick, dead ahead!_

**They hit it. **

**It's a short sentence, but contains a _lot_ of incident.**

Joel: Damn, _that _wasn't supposed to happen.

Phantom(from somewhere amid all the cushions, where Christine _would _be sitting if she wasn't at that moment sprawled rather unattractively across the front of the boat – what do you _call_ that pointy bit anyway? The prow?): You _think?_

Christine(who has apparently bumped her head, but the only difference is that she's now willing to take her clothes off and be sketched by her lover; oh, if only POTO echoed _Titanic, _the E/C shippers would be satisfied and the rest of us would get a laugh!): I'll never let go! _My heart will go on!_

**Nice tune, but wrong film. Cut it out; I don't want to be accused of plagiarism any more than is absolutely necessary in this film. **

Christine: I never get to have _any_ fun.

**This coming from the girl who not only got to kiss Raoul for two days straight while filming but also kiss _and _be fondled by Erik…nope. Can't see the not fun side of that – keeping my prospectus on the trousers and the contents of the aforesaid trousers of both the males, but all the same…**

Christine: Ooo. Point. I suppose I _do_ get to have some fun then.

**More than some would guess, judging by what other people write on the net – but we'll get onto that subject another time. **

**After managing to prevent the boat from sinking, which I think somehow would _not _be a good thing, considering what some people believe actually lives in the lake – Metachi's The Siren, for one thing, and L'ange d'Erik's piranhas and alligators for another (though actually it isn't really a proper lake, when you think about it, since it's just an off-branch of all those strange canals) Erik _eventually_ gets the boat to the shore, with only minimum damage to the craft and its occupants. **

**The candlestick, though, will never be the same again, I'm afraid to say.**

Phantom: I can always build another one. I _am _a masked genius after all.

Joel: Don't sweat it. We'll order another one off the props wagon.

Phantom: It's _my _lair. I'm building the candlesticks.

Joel: But really, we can just-

Phantom (in scary voice not unlike Madame Giry's back in Chapter Three): _I'm building the candlesticks._

Joel: Umm…sure, what ever makes you happy?

Phantom: Ah, yet another domination in the world of my opera house. _I rule all._

Joel: My God, what _have_ we created?

**What have _you _created, Joel darling - _you_ made this film. I'm just narrating. And providing occasional sarcastic input for the readers' benefit when I deem the time has come for cheap laughs. Such as now. **

Phantom (taking no notice of the ongoing conversation behind him, having gotten out of the crazy phase): Ah, here we are – lair sweet lair.

**He then hops out onto the bank – which is just as well, because if he did the next bit in the boat he'd be swung out of it by the sheer momentum of the action and end up in the water anyway - and takes off his cloak, and in doing so performs the first of many, many extremely impressive and over-the-top cape swirls in this film. And, as can be expected, the phan girls squee.**

Phan girls: SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

…**See what I mean? Then he drops the cape on the floor. Now, I don't mean to be picky, and I'm not all out to point out deficiencies in Schumacher's directing-**

Joel: I beg to differ.

**Joel, in God's eyes we are all different, and yet unique. Why beg for it?**

Joel: You _know _what I mean.

**Of course I do, but I'm going to annoy you by pretending I don't - but this is, for some reason I _cannot_ fathom, a bit of a niggle. See: since Erik is this wonderful genius who can invent candelabras that rise up out of the water and spontaneously light, and somehow manage to build a huge massive pipe organ out of whatever he found lying around the opera house-**

Pessimists in the audience: Yeah, how _did _they get the organ in there in the first place?

**_I'm_ grousing here. Anyway, if he can do all that, you would think he'd be able to make some sort of hat-stand, so he has somewhere to hang up his cape when he's not wearing it, instead of just dropping it on the floor.**

Phantom: The Phantom of the Opera does _not _hang up capes.

Joel: See, there's another hidden ulterior motive.

**What possible ulterior motive could Erik have for dropping his cape on the floor?** Joel: I'm not telling you! It's a secret between me and Erik! A secret! But you will be proved wrong!

**O…kay. Erik?**

Phantom: Yes?

**Time to work your magic. But remember, _no _all out fondling – at least, not until the very end of the song.**

Phantom: Oh, very well. But at the end?

**I hate to say this, since it makes me squirm – the girl is meant to be about _my_ age, after all – but yes, she is all yours. In a sense.**

Phantom: This is what I _live_ for.

Christine: _Me too!_

**_Down_, girl. At this point in the proceedings, I would like to say that for the sake of all those out there who love this song, the rest of the phic will go like a true song phic – that is, the characters, or character in this case, will sing the lines of the song without interrupting the actual lyrics part way through with comic or sarcastic statements, unlike in the last chapters, where we kept on cutting the songs short, or even skipping them altogether in favour of something more humorous. But since I like this song as much as anyone else, for once I'm going to revoke my humorous narration of the film, and let it flow unhindered.**

**The gaps between the lines, though – _that's_ a different story. Tee hee.**

Gerry fans: (Have their cushions ready to swoon away on.)

Michael Crawford fans(P.O.'d 'cause they came off decidedly worse in the scrap in the last chapter, there being infinitely more Gerry fans fuelled with more overactive hormones): (Have their knives ready to cut the scene to ribbons.)

Phantom: _I have brought you, to the seat of sweet music's throne – to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music…music!_

**Oh, _yeah_. Feel the shivers down the spine.**

Christine: (Looking around in wonder) Wow, you really have a lot of candles in here – isn't that a bit of a fire hazard?

Phantom: Seeing there's a large water supply right on hand, I would think not.

Safety inspectors: _I_ think that concern's come too late; there's smoke coming out of the pipes on that organ, for God's sake. (Seriously; this _actually_ seems to be happening on the DVD. I am _not_ making this up. Go and look at it on this point in the film. You'll see what I mean.)

**Let's pretend we haven't noticed…I'm sure it's there for a reason. It _is _there for some sort of reason, isn't it?**

Joel: Well…

**We'll just drop it.**

Phantom: _You have come here, for one purpose and one alone!_ _Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing for my music…my music…_

Christine: Is that the _only_ reason?

Phantom: No, but that's the only reason the censors will let me give at the moment.

**And…sigh. I really, _really_ don't want to say this…but it _must _be done. It _must…_**

_**So it begins. **_

**There. I've said it. Somebody shoot me.**

Phantom: _Night time sharpens…_

Gerry fans: (Accordingly swoon away. They are woken up several times during the rest of the song, only to swoon time and time again, until their less swoonsome companions finally get sick of having to wake them up all the time, and for fun start seeing how much popcorn they can flick into their unconscious mouths before they either wake up or suffocate. Some suffer the latter. But at least they died happy.)

**_Ooo._ On second thoughts, hold the shooting. I wanna listen!**

Phantom: …_heightens each sensation; darkness stirs, and wakes imagination…_

**And the phans as well, brought around by their companions – who promptly squee and faint again at the smouldering shot of Erik that accompanies the next line. So if they're just going to squee and faint all the time, what's the point of them coming in the first place?**

Phantom:_…silently the senses abandon their defences…_

**He helps Christine out of the boat, in the bit where all true fans of the stage show know 'helpless to resist the notes I write' goes, but for some reason is cut out here, just as the last verse of 'Phantom of the Opera' was cut as well. But if it gives more screen time for our beloved Phantom and his ingénue, so much the better.**

**So anyway, he helps her out of the boat-**

Joel: AHA! SEE? She steps on his cape! See? THAT'S THE HIDDEN ULTERIOR MOTIVE! HA HA HA HA _HA_! I PROVED YOU WRONG! _I PROVED YOU WRONG! _(He then falls down on the floor in a dead faint.)

…**Will somebody revive him by waving some doodlebags under his nose? Oh, no, those may have been what made him hyper in the first place. Maybe I shouldn't have given him so many at the end of Chapter Three.**

Phantom: Now _that_ was an insane laugh. My god, a fifty-something American director has a more impressive insane laugh than me. That's _degrading._

**C'est la vie.**

Phantom: No, that's not life. That's humiliating, is what that is.

**But on the other hand, he _was_ high from all the chocolate he'd ingested – and the marshmallows. I think it was the marshmallows that did it. (Note to self: Don't mix marshmallows with doodlebags, unless want to go completely nuts.) Don't worry, readers, Joel _will_ be back by the end of the chapter…I hope, otherwise we won't be able to stop. But we'll deal with that when the time comes.**

**Well, Erik helps Christine out of the boat – yet again – and she steps on the cloak, Joel's amazing ulterior motive in Erik's seemingly careless casting away of the garment-**

Christine: This _is_ the cloak I was sick all over, yes?

Phantom: Last time I checked, yes.

Christine: I think I would have much preferred to just walk on the ground, then. _Euuugh._

Phantom: If it was good enough for Queen Elizabeth the First, it's good enough for you. _Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour…_

**The dreamy look comes back onto Christine's face – yet again - and stays there for basically the rest of the song, heaven help us. **

Phantom: …_grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender; turn your face away, from the garish light of day…_Speaking of daylight, what's with that big light shining in through the gates? I thought we were meant to be miles underground?

**We are…but since the only person who can explain this unnatural phenomenon is currently out cold from doodlebag withdrawal, we'll leave our questions for the time being. Just stay away from it, I tell you! _Stay away from the light!_**

Phantom: Oh, well_…turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light; and listen to the music of the night._

**While he's been singing, he's been leading Christine past his big doll's house of the opera, with a sweet little doll of her in the Hannibal dress, and lots of pictures of her all over the place. The doll's house itself, let alone all the pictures, should be enough to suggest to Christine that her 'Angel of Music' isn't as celestial as she's been assuming for the past ten or so years; but just because you're a beautiful young prima donna and can sing like an angel to boot doesn't necessarily mean you have to be _intelligent._**

Christine(annoyed): Hey!

**You're meant to be in a trance, so be quiet.**

Phantom: _Close your eyes, and surrender to your darkest dreams; purge your thoughts of the life you knew before!_

Christine: Oh, I'm purging.

Phantom: Umm…yes. _Close your eyes, let you spirit start to **soar!** _

**Christine, getting the hint, obediently closes her eyes – off the subject for a moment, doesn't she _so _look as if she's doing something she shouldn't be doing, and loving every moment of it? You know what I mean, I'm sure. And if you don't…**

…**you're too young to know.**

Gerry fans: (Swoon - yet _again_.)

Michael Crawford fans: (If they actually _had_ been able to cut the scene to ribbons, they would probably be adorning their Sarah Brightman like curls with the shredded bits of the scene right now, and sharing them with the Sarah Brightman fans; and then stampeding out of the cinema, trampling everyone in their path, to pay tribute to their idol – or idols - for having destroyed the film which shunned and rebuked them and refused to hire them, with their little frizzy curls and piping voices. _Shudder. _Best not think of that. Anyway, they aren't, since they _can't _cut the scene to ribbons, so they haven't. They're just scowling. _Really_ hard.)

Phantom: _…and you'll live, as you've never lived before…_

Any remaining Gerry fans who are _still_ conscious – which is quite an achievement, all things considered: (Give in at last, after valiant efforts, and swoon.)

Phantom: _Softly, deftly, music shall caress you; hear it, feel it, secretly possess you; open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight…_

**At this point, Christine gives him a _very _sultry look, that would basically translate in the code of sultry looks as: _I hear what you say, and I like it a great deal_. Oooo, bad girl! _Bad!_**

Phantom: Oh, _yeah_ baby…_the darkness of the music of the night! Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world…_(He passes around the back of the organ, and is just about to sing the next bit when he suddenly starts hacking and coughing and spluttering, like he swallowed a bug or something.)

Christine: Are you all right? Would you like a pat on the back or anything?

Phantom: (eye twitching under the mask, and his face an interesting red colour) No, I'm fine. I'm just choking on all the candle-smoke I've just inhaled and I feel dizzy and faint and I'm trying not to pass out; that's all. Thank you.

Christine: That's probably because of the candles. I knew you had too many. See, when candles burn, they use up all the oxygen from the air in their flames; and that makes you dizzy and faint and hallucinate and _actually _faint if you lose too much oxygen.

**I guess it wasn't just the marshmallows that did for Joel, then.**

Phantom: So it would seem. Anyway (completely back to normal, which says a lot for the man, considering he can go from gacking to gorgeous in five seconds flat): _leave all thoughts of the life you knew before; let your soul take you where you long to BEEEEEEE!_

Gerry fans: (Swoon in their little phantom obsessed dreams – that voice is a powerful thing. And _loud._)

Michael Crawford fans: …All right, he _can_ hold a note, I suppose. But Michael still rules! _We love you, Michael!_

Phantom: So I walked all the way around the organ, just to end up right back where I started from? What was the point in _that?_

Christine: So you could admire me in the candlelight?

Phantom:…so it would seem. _Only then, can you belong to me…_

**After a _very _short space of time, Erik has Christine in a fairly compromising position. Basically, it's the sort of position where any red-blooded girl would kill to be in Christine's place, and any red-blooded man would kill to be in Erik's place. _That _sort of position. _If _you know what I mean. **

**Which you do, since you've seen the film and everything.**

Phantom(evidently enjoying this stage in the proceedings immensely): _Floating, falling, sweet intoxication…_

Christine: I'm being groped by a guy I've believed was my father's ghost for, like, about ten years…and I'm _loving_ it. I am _so_ going to Hell for this. (Doesn't look like she cares much, though.)

E/C shippers in the audience(mighty pleased): Aaaaaaah!

R/C shippers in the audience: Grrrr. (Set fire to their effigies of Erik.)

E/OW shippers in the audience: Grrrr. (Set fire to their effigies of Christine.)

Arsonists in the audience: Ooo! _Fire!_ (Set fire to basically anything, not because they have any particular liking or disliking for the various pairings in the story but because there's _fire,_ and everyone else is doing it.)

Phantom(ignoring the ongoing chaos in the cinema): _Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation…_

**Who would have thought touching someone else's face could possibly induce the kind of ecstasy we see in Christine at this point? Not me, that's for certain. But, as the old song says, anything goes: and it often does.**

Phantom: _…let the dream begin; let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write…_

**As he's singing, he's come out of the position with Christine, most likely to his extreme disappointment – well, if you were a bloke, and you were in that situation, would _you_ want to break out of it? – and is leading her down this little flight of steps. This is a really complicated lair. But anyway, the end of the song is coming up, and we all know what's coming next, even if Christine doesn't. **

**Which is probably just as well, since it would rather spoil the effect if she did.**

Phantom: _…the power of the music of the night…_now, now that I'm done singing, I've got a surprise for you.

Christine: Ooo, surprise! I _love_ surprises!

**As I've said before, the girl just walks into these things, doesn't she?**

Phantom: Well, walk this way.

**He pulls back a big curtain, to reveal - who else but our favourite wax mannequin? Well, it wouldn't really _be _anyone else, would it?**

Phantom: TA-DA! Well, what do you think?

**_Important note:_ Just in case anyone thinks Christine is a big WUSS for fainting at this moment, remember that this is not the nicest of things to happen to anyone. Think of it this way; what would _you_ do if you'd been led through loads of catacombs and sewers in basically your underwear, and been serenaded in a candlelit lair, and had your oxygen burnt away by the aforesaid candles, and _then_ found out that the person who you've believed for ten years was the spirit of your dead father is in fact just a mortal guy who wants to marry you, and as proof has built a creepy replica mannequin of you? And all this wearing a corset, may I just add. **

**I don't personally know what _I'd _do, but judging by what a lot of you are writing, you'd leap on Erik and take him wildly against the organ, despite the corset. But Christine faints. **

**And, personally, I really can't blame her.**

Christine: (Faints.)

**That's getting awfully common in this phic, isn't it?**

Phantom: (Catches her.) …Methinks somebody needs to lay off the chocolate.

Christine(opening one eye): It's _puppy fat_, okay? _Puppy fat!_

Phantom: You think that, if it gives you comfort.

**In a _very _romantic gesture, he cradles her in his arms and, carefully and gently, as if bearing some priceless load, carries her up the steps. **

**The effect is slightly ruined, however, when he bangs her head against the cave wall by mistake. **

Christine: _Nnngh_. (Passes out for real this time.)

Phantom: Ooops.

**Never mind. It'll shut her up for a while. Erik carries the now really unconscious Christine into a bed chamber – this lair has _everything_, doesn't it? – with a really big bed, in the shape of a bird of doubtful species. He lays her down on it. It says a lot about how pretty someone is if they're stunning even when they're asleep – or out cold, in this case. It would be _really_ funny if she started snoring or some such thing, but I'm not that cruel.**

Phantom: _You alone can make my song take flight…help me make the music of the…night…_

**He carries on with that note for a while-**

Music critics in the audience: Very digitally enhanced _again._

**-and strokes her face, before straightening up, and pulling down a weird kind of mosquito net around the bed.**

Phantom: The little blighters get everywhere. Why do you think I have all the candles, if not to smoke them out?

**Really? I just thought they were there for dramatic effect.**

Phantom: You think I'd be willing to saturate my lungs with oxygen-lacking air, just for dramatic effect? No, I just like to watch them fly into the flames, and give little hissing squeals, and smoke as they cook…

…**Have _you_ been at the doodlebags as well?**

Phantom: No!...Well, just one or two…

**So much for finding the ultimate chocoholic's dream hard to believe. Well, that's another chapter over – and only two people fainted! All in all, much better than I'd hoped for – and we didn't have to end the chapter with _that _phrase…**

Joel (having just come around): What? You mean 'so it begins?'

…**I'll _kill_ him. I _will kill_ him.**

**

* * *

Reviews for me? If not for me, then to torment Joel? The half-Irish seamstress loves ya!**


End file.
